


Gravity (you are my wings)

by Idreamt_once



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Chenle is a soft whipped boi, Jisung is a master at parkour, M/M, On the Run, Shy Park Jisung (NCT), but take that with a grain of salt, wow what is a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-10-13 02:52:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamt_once/pseuds/Idreamt_once
Summary: Jisung first sees him when he's scaling the other boy's apartment building. He sees him again when the cute boy wanders down the wrong alleyway. The third time they meet, he learns the boy's name.Chenle





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Supernatural Homosexuals](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650808) by [Bambam_the_dab_lord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bambam_the_dab_lord/pseuds/Bambam_the_dab_lord). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao it's me.  
> Back at it again with my China-line boys, because WayV happened and fuckkkk  
> I'm not quite sure how this story's gonna go, I just sat down and started writing, so yikes.  
> I call all of the chinese members by their chinese names, because it makes my life so much easier instead of having to type out Ten's last name. His last name could literally be a spelling bee word.
> 
> Also: Most Asian women don't change their last names after marriage. However, their children usually will be named after the father's last name.  
> -Helena

     Jisung launches himself up the apartment building, deliberately ignoring the police sirens coming from Exodus Avenue. He knows that there are twenty-one floors of this particular apartment building. If he counted right, he should be at eighteen. He doesn’t look down, nor does he look up, focused on his his hands and feet. One wrong move at this height means certain death. Nineteen. Jisung’s just starting to feel a bit out of breath, having scaled his previous building over a month ago. He feels his arms start to tire, but he pushes through. Twenty. Almost there. Though it is early in the morning, there is a window lit on the twentieth floor. Jisung makes eye contact with a boy who is looking out the window, and he almost falls. His fingers scramble for purchase on the rain-slicked brick, and he manages to pull himself back together. The boy’s expression is of utter disbelief, his chocolate eyes widening in shock. Jisung only flashes the cute boy a smile before disappearing onto the twenty-first floor.

     A helicopter buzzes ahead of him, but he’s already on the move. His legs are threatening to give out; he hasn’t climbed in over a month, and his muscles are becoming derelict. Jisung forces the pain to the back of his mind as he avoids the helicopter’s spotlight, hiding between the pipes. Even in the darkness, his eyes are rapidly scanning the rooftop, searching for the staircase that leads from the roof to the topmost floor. There, in the southwest corner. Jisung makes a beeline for the northeast corner, trying to put as much distance between himself and the exit as possible. He knows that he’s been on the Most Wanted list for a good enough time, notorious for being the youngest one on the list of hardened street criminals. Jisung looks over the small alleyway separating the building he was standing on and the one that was directly east of it. Twenty-two floors. Only a short bit of vulnerability in exchange for higher ground He calculates roughly how far it is, before he measured his steps. He starts to sprint towards the edge of the building when the door bursts open.

     “Hey! Stop where you are!” the policeman shouts, gun aimed at the seventeen-year-old. Too late, Jisung’s already in the air. His hands slam into the fire escape ladder and he pulls himself over in one smooth move. He ducks when the first gunshot sounds, hearing the bullet make a slight _ping_ above his head. By this time, the helicopter’s already caught on to his location, it’s glaring white eye trained on his every move. Another gunshot sounds as Jisung pulls himself over the roof. He looks up at the helicopter, gives it a smile, and jumps off the building.

 

     Chenle hates chemistry. It’s almost three AM, yet here he was, still unable to differentiate between two compounds he had tested earlier. His brother, Kun, was already asleep in the bottom bunk. Outside, the sudden sounds of sirens made Chenle look up. Living in the city, he wasn’t surprised, but this time, they seemed to get closer and closer. He shut his book and walked to his window. Sure enough, the flashing of red lights danced on the opposite building. There are some shouts in the hallway from outside the apartment. Something about ‘police’ and ‘criminal’. Chenle tries to stand on his tiptoes to see the alleyway below, but instead greeted with a head of blonde hair. The boy on the building looks at him for a brief second, smiles, then manages to jump his window in one move. Their encounter is so brief that Chenle almost doubted it happened.

     When the police come knocking on his family’s door at four in the morning, Chenle is the one to answer. The police were shocked to see a seventeen-year-old open the front door, asking immediately for his parents.

     “My parents are not my caretakers,” Chenle said, in the best Korean he could. The policeman then asks for his caretaker. Grudgingly, Chenle lets the policeman into the living room.

     “Please wait here, I will go get my brothers,” Chenle said. He walks calmly across the apartment to his and Kun’s room. His eldest brother would know what to do, right?

     “Kun-ge?” Chenle asked softly. Kun stirred in his sleep.

     “What is the matter?” Kun murmured.

     “The police are here,” Chenle said. Kun shot up in his bed.

     “Can you please go tell Ten?” Kun said, his voice perfectly controlled. Chenle nodded as he raced to his cousin’s room. Chenle gently shakes Ten and Sicheng awake, whispering to them the situation; there was no need to wake Hendery. Ten nods and proceeds to grab a sweatshirt, tossing one to Sicheng, who nods his thanks. Chenle walks back to the living room.

     “May I offer you a drink, sir?” Chenle asked.

     “Some water would be great, thanks,” the policeman said. Chenle almost pitied the tired tone. Almost.

     Kun arrives first, followed Ten, then Sicheng. Chenle introduces them to the policeman, who shakes each of their hands.

     “So, what brings you here tonight, sir?” Kun asked.

     “I have come to inform you that a dangerous criminal has come within your apartment’s vicinity.” At this, Ten looks to Chenle, asking a silent question. Chenle moves his head infinitesimally to the left. _No._

     “A dangerous criminal?” Sicheng asked, “whom? Of what crimes?”

     “We believe his name is Park Jisung,” the policeman said carefully, trying to gauge the reactions of the young men. None of them show any signs of knowing anything.

     “He will be charged with fraud, larceny, and identity theft,” the policeman continues.

     “Will be?” Ten asked, catching on.

     “He has not yet been caught,”

     The policeman takes his leave after finding out no new information from them. Kun sighs.

     “Chenle, you almost gave me a heart attack,” the eldest says in Chinese. Sicheng yawned and stretched, before shuffling back to the rooms.

     “Good job, little cousin,” Ten gave Chenle a pat on the back before retreating to his own room as well. After Kun had drifted off again, Chenle shut off the lights and crawled into bed. He’ll just use the excuse of the policeman when his chemistry teacher requests his homework.

* * *

 

     “Get up, Chenle!” Renjun shakes Chenle awake. He glances at the clock. 6:00. Chenle groans and flops back into his bed. He went to sleep only two hours ago! Yukhei, Renjun’s biological brother, is busy in his bathroom, brushing his teeth, making such noise that Chenle, despite his obvious lack of sleep, was unable to fall back asleep. Groaning, Chenle pulls himself off the top bunk. Kun’s lower bunk is already neatly made, his blankets folded and his plushies lined up.

     Chenle is always the last one up. He knows that because he is always the last one at the table. Sure, having the nine of them at the table is a bit cramped, but the boys are all used to it. Chenle glances around the table as he munches on his pancakes that Kun made. All of them are related, but many generations ago, and some only by marriage. Kun and Chenle are brothers by blood, as are Yukhei and Renjun. Hendery is Yukhei and Renjun’s cousin, since their fathers were brothers. Grandpa Huang’s sister-in-law, Grandma Li,  was the maternal grandmother of Ten and Yangyang. Grandma Li’s twin sister, Taller Grandma Li, was the paternal grandmother of Kun and Chenle, along with Sicheng and Xiaojun. Chenle only memorized his family tree after sixteen years, and, to be frank, he still couldn’t tell the difference between the two Grandma Li’s in photos. The boys never bothered to differentiate, simply calling those older than himself “ge”, meaning “older brother”. All of them were sent to Korea in lieu of Grandpa Huang’s death, since it was his last wish that “the grandsons get a new chance at life”. None of the boys ever questioned the will, but some of them know more than the others.

 

     “Chenle, any later and you’ll miss the bus again!” Sicheng chastises the youngest gently. Chenle looks guilty for a fraction of a second.     

     “I’m not going to drive you if you’re late again!” Ten threatened. Chenle pouted. Ten’s music campus was closest to his high school’s, just _why_ couldn’t he drive him there?

     “And I, too, will not drive you,” Kun said as he placed another pancake in front of Yangyang. Chenle gave his brother a stink eye.

     “Aww, you’re so cute,” Renjun coos as he pinches the youngest’s cheek.

     “Hendery-ge? Can you drive me?” Chenle asked hopefully. Hendery looks at Chenle over the top of his novel.

     “I’m sorry, little Lele, I’ve got a presentation today, and I can’t be late for that,” Hendery smiled sadly. Chenle sighs, and turns to Yukhei.     

     “Don’t look at me, I’m still on the blacklist,” Yukhei puts both hands in the air.

     “Obviously! You scratched my Mercedes!” Sicheng huffed, sitting down and pouring himself some coffee, “My fucking brand-new, sleek red Mercedes!”

     “It was _one tiny-ass_ scratch! And I’ll never use your car again because mine got repaired!” Yukhei retorted back.

     “Hey! Sicheng! Yukhei!” Kun called from the kitchen. Sicheng rolled his eyes at Kun’s nagging. Desperate, Chenle turns to the last person with a license and a car of his own: Xiaojun.

     “Fine, I’ll drive you, but we’d have to leave in ten minutes,” Xiaojun groaned. Chenle bounced up from his chair, a shout of joy leaving his lips as he rushed back to his room to pack his school bag.

     “You can’t keep spoiling him like that, Xiaojun,” Ten tsked.

     “I just feel bad for him. The rest of us can either drive to work, drive to college, or conveniently has an older brother that goes to the same college. Only poor little Lele doesn’t. He has to take the public bus to high school, and I know he hates public transportation.” Xiaojun defended.

     “Remember when you got stuck in traffic so bad after dropping him off that when you showed up, it was already lunch break?” Sicheng asked.

     “It’s not his fault the traffic is bad. Besides, who really needs fundamental calculus again when you’ve already taken it in high school?” Xiaojun replied.

     “Still, remember when he spilled his bubble tea all over your leather-interior Audi?” Renjun asked, sipping his coffee.

     “Ok, but he cleaned it up pretty well afterwards,” Xiaojun defended again.

     “You’re just defending him all the way, eh?” Kun asked. Xiaojun shrugged.

     “What can I say? He’s my favorite little brother.” Xiaojun said, before sashaying away. Cue shouts of protest from Hendery, Renjun, and Yangyang, and a cackling Ten.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wassup  
> I did not proofread this but i probably should have, my brain doesn't work well at 3 AM  
> so much of this is word vomit. I'm so sorry  
> I'd like to promise you all that this will get more interesting, but I gotta set up some stuff first, yaknow?  
> I also have absolutely no idea where all the places are relative to each other, so oof  
> aight, I'm out  
> -Helena

     Chenle hopped out of Xiaojun’s car, flashing him a smile and waving as he pulled out of the drop off circle, the beautiful white Audi standing out like a sore thumb in the middle of the SUVs. Chenle ignored the stares of his classmates in favor of walking briskly to the library. He knew the other students would gossip again at lunchtime today.  _ China’s little rich boy’s brother dropped him off again. No way! Which car was it this morning? His brother’s kinda cute though.  _ None of their whispers bother Chenle. He knew what it meant, accepting to go to a public school instead of the private school his father offered. Chenle came to public school in hopes of making more friends, but the plan backfired. He was too kind to fit in with the mean boys, too energetic for the nerds, a little too uninterested for the rich kids, though he probably was richer than all of them put together. 

     When he had found his favorite corner in the library, Chenle took out his chemistry homework, in hopes of finishing it before class started. Half-way through, he gave up. The excuse of having police show up at your door at four in the morning is a good enough excuse not to have your chemistry homework done, correct? Chenle sighed, shutting his textbook and shoved it in his backpack. He stood up and started to walk to class.

     Unfortunately, no matter who drives him to school, Chenle must always take the bus home after school. Kun always worked long hours at the office, Ten dances too much for his own good, Sicheng takes too many acting classes, Yukhei captains the soccer team, Xiaojun studies too much history, Hendery codes too much, Yangyang studies German, and Renjun takes Yukhei’s car out to practice driving for his license. Chenle, ever the antisocial one, has no particular talents. His brothers all say that he’s still young, but Kun has already been accepted into medical school at his age, and Chenle can’t even tell the difference between sodium carbonate and sodium bicarbonate. Sighing, Chenle trudges up to the bus station and waits for bus 127. 

 

     Jisung woke up in a brighter mood than the one he went to sleep in, despite it already being late afternoon. His legs ached and his arms were sore, but his heart was happy. Jisung smiled to himself as he swing his legs over the old, worn sofa and grabbed the bottle of water. Last night was a lot of fun. Jisung lives for the thrill of a chase. Sure, he went great lengths to get that rush, but did it really matter? He’s only a petty thief. Jisung knows what he does is wrong, but is it really wrong if he’s doing it for survival? He prefers to be alone, although many groups and gangs have tried to recruit him. Why limit himself? 

     The garage where Jisung crashed technically belongs to Jaehyun, but Jaehyun lets Taeyong run it, and Mark, as Taeyong’s little brother was dragged into helping, which meant his boyfriend also was dragged into helping. Jisung had originally tried to get a job at the garage, but when Taeyong had asked about his parents, Jisung had smiled wistfully. From then on, Taeyong considered it his duty to make sure Jisung had a place to sleep and food to eat. When he turned fifteen, Jisung had started to leave in the early mornings and return late at night. The mechanics had gotten used to his frequent disappearances, only finding out if he’s alive after watching the news on the beat-up old television in Jaehyun’s room. 

     Jisung does have friends, but he doesn’t see them very often. Probably because Mark and Donghyuck are too busy looking at each other and Jaehyun and Taeyong only have cars in their minds. But the mechanics are kind to him, and haven’t turned him into the police for the reward money yet, so Jisung thinks that they’re respectable friends. He stretched and groaned, heading to the bathroom to wash up, before heading to the kitchen to grab himself an apple. He makes a mental note that the refrigerator seems to be on the empty side. Jisung grabbed his slightly-damp leather jacket, pulled on his boots, and left. 

     He walked towards the rich sector. This was routine. He would walk around a shopping mall, preferably a crowded one, and simply reach his hands out. His hands were made for pickpocketing; long, strong fingers and quick reflexes. He spots his first target, a man of about forty, his attention on the phone in his hand. The man’s right suit pocket has the rough shape of a stuffed wallet. The very thought of it makes Jisung’s fingers twitch. He pulls his cap down lower, adjusts his face mask, and casually walks towards the man, acting as nonchalant as possible. He pretends to be looking down at the magazine he snatched from a street vendor, keeping his eyes on the target. Just another kid in the mall, right? 

_      Crash.  _

     “I’m so sorry, sir!”

     “Watch where you’re going, kid,” 

     “So sorry, sir,” 

     Three seconds. 

     That’s all it takes for Jisung to be five hundred dollars richer. He keeps his head down, pretending to be reading his magazine again, but up his jacket sleeve, the man’s wallet rests, a corner of something hard digging into his arm. Jisung ducks into the nearest men’s room, picks a stall, and digs through the leather pouch. Cards, ID, all useless.  _ Oohh, a bubble tea gift card. I wonder why a middle-aged man has a bubble tea gift card. But hey, I don’t discriminate.   _ He takes the cash along with the gift card, placing the wallet on the toilet paper dispenser. Jisung walks out nonchalantly, washing his hands, and leaves the bathroom. Hopefully someone other person would be a gentleman and return the missing wallet, but Jisung already has nothing to do with it. 

     By early afternoon, Jisung has a decent two thousand dollars in cold, hard cash, plus a bubble tea card. He heads towards the garage, ducking into the salon on his way there. He buys himself another color of hair dye, a coppery shade of red, before grabbing Taeyong a box of silver. Jisung then heads to the store, grabbing some food and, since he’s in a good mood, some watermelon for Mark. When he gets back to the garage, only Donghyuck is there, laying under a car. 

     “Hey, Jisung?” Donghyuck called out. Damn Donghyuck and his sensitive ears. That boy could tell the difference between who was walking solely based off the rhythm and volume of the footsteps.

     “Yeah?” 

     “Can you pass me the cross-recess screwdriver?” 

     “ _ Which _ one?” Jisung had no idea what a “cross-recess” screwdriver was. 

     “Phil”

     “I didn’t know you named your screwdrivers,” Jisung said, completely confused. 

     “No, oh my god, the screwdriver with the little plus sign at the end,” Donghyuck sighed. 

     “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Jisung grabbed the said screwdriver.

     “No wonder why Taeyong wouldn’t hire you, you can’t even tell the difference between screwdrivers,” Donghyuck teased. 

     “I guess you’re not consuming any of the ice cream I just bought,” Jisung skipped towards the door of the apartment. Donghyuck screeched.

     “No! You come back here Park Jisung!” Donghyuck screamed, but Jisung had already slammed the door. He loaded the groceries into the refrigerator, satisfied with himself over how much he’s accomplished today. 

  
  
  


     “Kun-ge you really need a new car,” Sicheng said, eyeing Kun’s minivan as he stepped out of it. 

     “I’ve told you before, my minivan is great. She’s old but gold. Besides, we need a car where all of us can fit with ample leg room,” Kun replied. Sicheng rolled his eyes.

     “You’ll need a school bus to fit Yukhei’s legs,” Sicheng muttered. Suddenly, the roar of an engine comes down the tunnel, a yellow Porsche speeding right towards Kun, who only rolled his eyes. The driver of the yellow car slams the brakes, a mere two inches from Kun’s bag. Renjun hops out of the driver side, proud. 

     “That was great!” Renjun said, running to give Sicheng a hug. Yukhei stumbles out of the passenger side, clutching at his stomach. 

     “Speak of the devil,” Sicheng muttered to himself, pulling Renjun into a hug.

     “Yeah, never again,” Yukhei groaned.

     “Yukhei, you alright?” Kun asked. Yukhei shook his head. 

     “Renjun thought it would be a good idea,” Yukhei wheezed, “to go down the spiral ramp at fifty knots,”

     “Hey, I didn’t scratch the car at all. I just went down the loopy-loop kinda fast, no problem,” Renjun said. 

     “Renjun, park the car, geez,” Sicheng said, pushing Renjun off of him. 

     “This is why all the neighbors think we’re weird,” Kun muttered to himself, shaking his head. Renjun backed the car into the spot between Sicheng’s Mercedes and Hendery’s black Lexus, perfectly centered between the two white lines. 

 

     As soon as Xiaojun comes through the door of the apartment, Chenle runs up to him, history book in hand and a million questions in mind.. 

     “Alright, Lele, lemme put my bag down,” Xiaojun sighed. Chenle plops himself down at the kitchen table. 

     “Ok, so,” Chenle begins, “I don’t understand why, at the end of World War I, America was included in the discussion thingy. America came in literally at the end of the war, yet still gets rewarded?”

     “First of all,” Xiaojun begins, sliding into the chair next to Chenle, “it’s called the Yalta Conference. And second, America’s —just kind of like that sometimes,” 

     “Hey! Don’t insult America like that in front of me,” Ten shouted from his room.

     “Oh sorry!” Xiaojun yelled back, “did I insult your Johnny-boy?”

     “Hey!” Ten shouted again. Kun rolled his eyes. 

     “I’m too lazy to cook tonight, so I’m ordering food. What do you all want?” Kun asked.

 

     “I’m bored,” Yangyang said, belly full of jjajangmyeon. 

     “Let’s play cards,” Kun said, pushing himself off the couch. 

     “Yas, poker,” Yukhei immediately perked up. 

     “Ohh, what are we betting this time?” Ten asked, sitting up. 

     “Chocolate?” Chenle asked hopefully. 

     “Nah, let’s bet money this time,” Hendery said. They always played cards King of the Table style. For each game, the two people that have the most money stay, and the two with the least get replaced. Eventually, after a good couple rounds, the game starts to get more and more competitive. 

     “How the fuck?” Sicheng groaned. Unbeknownst to him, Hendery, who was sitting across from him, had hacked the adjacent building’s CCTV camera. Instead of watching the alleyway below, the camera now peered into their own living room window, right at Sicheng’s cards. Hendery, whose phone was sitting on his lap, glanced down at the screen with Sicheng’s cards again. 

     “Four of diamonds,” Hendery said. Sicheng let out a high pitched whine and slid down in his chair. 

     “I’m out,” Sicheng muttered. Chenle, who sat behind Sicheng, noticed Hendery’s strange glances. It didn’t take long to connect the dots. 

     “Wow, it’s dark out, I’m going to close the blinds,” Chenle said. Hendery’s eyes flashed with panic. 

     “Ok great! My turn,” Ten said, taking Sicheng’s vacant seat. Chenle slid into the chair that a grumbling Yukhei had just left. 

     “My first round of the might!!” Chenle screeched happily. Kun eyed the two newcomers.

     “Here we go, then,” 

  
  


     “Damn, Chenle, I didn’t know you could play cards,” Yangyang said, clapping Chenle on the back. Ten hmphed. 

     “Yeah, he won all my money. Literally that was one  _ entire _ paycheck from the studio!” Ten complained. Sicheng rolled his eyes. 

     “How’d ya do it?” Yukhei asked. 

     “I don’t know, I just  _ did, _ ” Chenle said. He himself was still shocked. He’d never won a game against Hendery, much less Kun. Ten was easier to beat, because he showed expressions more readily, but Kun? Kun was practically one with the cards. Something had just  _ clicked.  _

     “Alright gentlemen,” Kun began, “I love that we’re all admiring Chenle’s newfound skills—”

     “Old man’s a sore loser,” Yangyang muttered to Renjun, snickering. Kun threw a couch pillow at them. 

     “I love that we’re all admiring Chenle, but it’s almost eleven, and Chenle still has homework, I’m  _ sure. _ ” 

     “But it’s  _ Friday, _ ” Chenle whimpered. 

     “I’m  _ sure, _ ” Kun says again. At Kun’s stern gaze, Chenle flashed his older brother a smile before scampering off. 

     “And I know that Yangyang has some theses to write,” Kun said. Yangyang ran away as well. 

     “And Hendery has some explaining to do,” Kun said. Chenle wasn’t the only one who noticed Hendery cheating. Hendery smiled sheepishly at their oldest brother. 

     “Don’t forget!” Ten yelled out, “Tomorrow is the Hunt!”

 

     Chenle normally would sleep in on a Saturday, but, as Ten had said, today’s the Hunt. The Hunt is a scavenger hunt that Kun had started when they’d first come to Seoul, to try to get them to go and learn some of the city’s layout, memorize some public transportation routes, and practice their Korean. Although it’s been almost four years since they’ve been here, the tradition still persisted and wagers have gotten higher and higher. 

     Chenle sprung out of bed, eager to not be the last one at the table again. He quickly dressed himself and washed up. By the time he made it to the kitchen table, so had everyone else. 

     “Little Lele, last again!” Ten singsonged. Chenle stuck his tongue out at him.

     “See, I would chastise you for making fun of my little brother, but I’m saving my energy for when I’m Game Master,” Kun shrugged. Yukhei toasted his glass of soymilk towards Kun, and proceeded to chug the entire glass to a horrified Renjun and a cackling Yangyang. 

     “Ok so, my munchkins,” Kun said as he sat down with his coffee. 

     “I’m not  _ that _ much younger than you,” Ten said. 

     “No, but with the way I get teased for being old, you might as well be,” Kun retorted. A round of gasps goes around the table. 

     “Anyway, this time, the theme is random, so the questions might be more difficult,” Kun began. All eight boys stopped what they were doing and listened intently. No one wanted to lose. 

     “No theme, and teams are split by age this Hunt, alright? We haven’t done age in a while,” Kun said. 

     “We haven’t done brain cell count either, but I’m not saying anything,” Sicheng muttered. Kun, unfortunately, heard. 

     “Then you would be on a team with I-haven’t-won-a-Hunt-since-I-was-eighteen Yukhei,” Kun replied smoothly. 

     “Hey! I did win since then!” Yukhei yelled. 

     “Y’all hear sum?” Hendery asked. The boys snickered. 

     “Anyway,” Kun said, “Anyone want to wager, since it’s the Juniors versus the Seniors this time?” All eight boys pull out their phones and text their wagers to Kun. When Kun’s phone light up for the eighth time, he continues. 

     “Since it’s been a long time since we’ve done this, a reminder. All clues have one answer and one answer only. Feel free to look up anything. My clues lead in a circle, so I’m going to start you guys at opposite ends of the circle. Whoever surpasses the other group or finishes the circle first wins. So think efficiently, move quickly, and respond rapidly, alright?  _ Jiayou! _ ”

     “ _ Jiayou!” _

 

     “Alright, Chenle, what’s the first clue?” Yangyang asked as they walked from the apartment to the bus station. Chenle pulled out his phone. 

     “Kun hasn’t sent it yet.” Chenle groaned. 

     “I love that this is our team,” Hendery sighed, “We have a total of three brain cells,” 

     “Hey! That’s already more than the Senior Team. My brother’s like a negative brain cell,” Renjun shrugged. 

     “It’s here!” Chenle yelled out, “Wow, Kun’s being so poetic this time around,” 

 

_ If I’m rich, this is where I go, _

_ I’ll buy enough to satisfy my soul. _

_ I might look like Kim Taehyung, _

_ But at least I’ll look like an idol. _

 

     “Kim Taehyung? He’s an idol, right?” Yangyang asked. Renjun nodded. Hendery muttered the lines to himself again. 

     “Well, I know Kim Taehyung has a preference for Gucci, but there’s gotta be a million Gucci’s in Seoul, Kun wouldn’t let us go to  _ any _ Gucci, right?” Chenle reasoned. 

     “If I’m rich, this is where I go,” Hendery muttered again, “I’ll buy enough—buy enough—mall?” 

     “Gangnam!” Hendery suddenly said, “The Gucci at Gangnam!”

     “Yes!” The Junior Team sprints for the bus station. First location down. 

 

     “Alright, everyone get in the shot,” Chenle said. He snapped the picture and sent it to Kun. Kun’s reply was immediate. 

 

_ Some may call it art, _

_ The world’s largest indoor theme park. _

_ Luxury hotels and shopping malls, _

_ This is truly a landmark. _

 

     “Largest indoor theme park,” Renjun muttered, pulling out his own phone to search it up. 

     “Lotte World” Renjun read. Chenle pulled up the subway route. 

     “Let’s go!” 

 

     “How many clues do you think the Juniors have gotten?” Ten asked aloud on the bus to their ninth clue. Sicheng shrugged.      

     “My brother has negative brain cells, so I guess not as far ahead as we are?” Yukhei mused. Xiaojun snickered. 

     “I can bet you ten dollars that Renjun said the exact same thing about you to the other Juniors,” Xiaojun said. Yukhei smacked Xiaojun on the arm. 

     “Well, I wouldn’t say we’re too far behind,” Ten cut across, not wanting a fight on the public bus, “We’ve gotten eight clues out of the ten, so we’re good?” Ten’s unsure. Sicheng can tell. 

     Except Xiaojun’s phone blings. 

 

_ Congratulations to the Junior Team for winning this week’s Hunt! _

 

     “What?!” Yukhei screeched. Sicheng put a finger to his lips. The Senior team crowds around Xiaojun’s phone to read Kun’s message again, just to verify that they lost. 

     “Well, guess we can take the next bus home,” Xiaojun shrugged. 

 

     Chenle and the rest of the Junior team had arrived home, snacking on the ice cream. Kun came out of his room, plopped himself down next to Chenle, who immediately fed him a spoonful of chocolate ice cream. 

     “I honestly didn’t expect you guys to take the U train to Lotte World. I thought that you guys would be like the Senior team, taking the bus before transferring,” Kun said between bites. A knock at the door reveals the Senior team, all looking a bit ruffled. 

     “When did they get ahead?” Ten asked, cutting straight to the chase.

     “The Lotte World one,” Kun replied, “the fastest route to Lotte World from Gangnam was to take the U train straight to the Lotte World Station from the Gangnam station. The Juniors got three clues done while you guys were en route” 

     “How were we supposed to know that?” Sicheng complained.

     “Well, I knew there was a station there, it was just a matter of finding the right train and the closest station,” Renjun replied. Yukhei sighed. Suddenly, Xiaojun remembered something. 

     “Did Renjun say, at any point today, that Yukhei has negative brain cells?” 

     “Actually, yeah, before the first clue, Renjun said something along the lines of ‘My brother has negative brain cells’,” Yangyang said. Xiaojun lept up. 

     “Ten bucks, Yukhei!” 

     “What happened?” Chenle asked. Sicheng rolled his eyes. 

     “Yukhei said that we were ahead of you guys because ‘My brother has negative brain cells’ while we were on the bus, and then Xiaojun was like ‘Renjun probably said the same thing’. So they bet on it,”  Ten sighed. 

     “Of course I would say he has negative brain cells,” Renjun huffed, “It’s just the truth.”

     “As much as I love watching Yukhei get roasted,” Kun cut across, “we have some wagers to distribute.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you the game the China-line plays is important :))))))))))))))))


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, 6,000 words? yes?  
> alright, stuff gets explained in this chapter. some action happens. hold on tight  
> Not edited, I embarrass myself like a kween  
> edited on 2/27/19  
> plotholes galore, but none of them actually matter to the plot itself. minor-details hole, i guess
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: nothing really really bad happens, but I still think it needs a warning. 
> 
> -Helena

     “Did you measure it right?” A nod.

     “I’m sure, I know he’s gotten much taller, so I factored that in as well,”

     “Alright,” A sigh.

     “I hate doing this to him,”

     “I know, I hate it too,” he replied as he slipped the vial of medication in the bowl. The pepper’s spicy flavor easily masked the bitter taste of the melatonin.       

     “He’s still too young,”

     “Just another year,”

 

     Friday night. Jisung doesn’t sleep on Friday nights. Fridays are cursed. The day his parents died? A Friday. His first day at the orphanage? A Friday. His first beating from the orphanage? A Friday. His first encounter with the police? A Friday. The sun is setting over the horizon, the day shortening in to winter, and Jisung pulls his jacket closer to him. He needs a new one, but Donghyuck likes to hog the only spare laptop, and Taeyong would never let Jisung shop on the store’s computer. Going to the mall is an option, but not on Fridays.

     Jisung plans to spend the night sitting on the roof of the warehouse where his parents worked. It was almost as if he could feel their ghosts there with him, telling him that they still loved him, telling him that everything was alright. The view of the bustling city is certainly a bonus, its twinkling lights putting on a show. So he goes when the night has settled in, careful to avoid the police stations. The warehouse is on the edge of the city, on the opposite end of Jaehyun and Taeyong’s shop. It’s quite a walk, but Jisung makes the trip weekly to pay his respects.

     The building is abandoned, old, and creaky. The blackened remains from the fire still stubbornly cling to the stone. It also doesn’t help that it had rained earlier in the night, and his hands are now covered with slick soot. Jisung’s used to it, paying no mind. He pulls himself onto the roof and dangles his legs over the edge, watching the city.

     “Hey, Mom, Dad,” Jisung says to no one. The wind stills, as if to listen to what the seventeen-year-old orphan as to say.

     “I know what you’ll say, Mom. I know I need a new jacket. I would go and buy one, but Donghyuck’s an asshole sometimes.” A pause. “Alright, I know I shouldn’t call him names, but it’s true,”

     “I’m fine, really,” Jisung starts. He always starts by updating his parents. “Mark is really growing up now. I think Donghyuck’s gotten more and more cross-eyed from staring at him and his back muscles when he moves to pick up car parts. Taeyong’s still at the reception desk, still being a salty child that he’s off-limits, since his shoulder still hurts from time to time. Jaehyun fixed up some rich kid’s car last week, but the rich kid paid Jaehyun really well, so I guess it was a nice rich kid.

     I’m also growing. I’ve gotten taller. I’m probably as tall as Dad now, though I don’t quite remember how tall Dad was.

     “I hate doing this, but I can’t help but think. What if I was just a normal kid? I would probably be in high school, maybe finishing up soon, probably finding colleges. I’d still be dancing, definitely. I probably wouldn’t be climbing buildings and running from the police. I’d definitely not be at the top of the Most Wanted list.” Jisung laughed.  

     “I know I told you guys this a week and a half ago,” Jisung said, taking a deep breath, “but his face keeps coming back into my thoughts.” The wind picks up a little, slightly warmer, caressing his cheek.

     “Do you think he remembers me? Do you think he knows who I am?” Jisung asked the sky. No answer. He sighed.

     “What if I’m love with him?”

     Jisung sits atop the roof for a little while longer. A glance at his watch says one thirty in the morning. He better head back, or Taeyong will lecture him again about staying up too late and disturbing his sleep. Ironic, really, since Taeyong’s probably still up anyway. Jisung grabs the ledge, swinging himself off the roof, his feet slamming into the stone wall. Even though there are almost no street lights in this part of the city, Jisung expertly climbs down the building. He knows every nook and cranny of this building like the back of his hand, having been here so many times. The warehouse where his parents died was the first building Jisung climbed, when he was just fifteen years old. He almost doesn’t even consider it a climb, because, in reality, he is only here to pay respects. Climbs are for the thrills.

 

     Chenle loves Friday nights. Friday nights meant no homework, lots of video games, and good sleep. He had planned on staying up late with Yangyang and Renjun to try to beat the level he was stuck on.

     “Hey, everyone!” Kun called, “Time to eat!” Chenle scurries out of the room, inhaling the spicy smell of Kun’s signature dish. A door opened somewhere, and out came Yukhei, who looked like a truck ran him over, hair up in a mess, shirt wrinkled.

     “Yukhei-ge, are you alright?” Chenle asked. Renjun snickers.

     “He’s fine, he was so sad about losing his soccer game today that he came straight home and took a nap,” Renjun replied. Chenle nodded, pretending that he knew soccer. He grabbed chopsticks from the drawer and slid into the seat next to Renjun at the table.

     “How was school today, Chenle?” Hendery asked, taking a seat across from Renjun. Chenle smiled.

     “I got a 98% on my math test,” Chenle chirped. Hendery nodded.

     “But your report card said something different about your chemistry grade,” Sicheng scolded. Chenle pouted.

     “Give the little one a break,” Ten said, taking the seat next to Hendery. Chenle smiled at Ten gratefully.

     “But chemistry is important!” Sicheng said, “If college doesn’t work out, you could always, you know, cook up meth and sell it!”

     “Don’t mislead little Lele,” Kun gave Sicheng a dangerous look. Sicheng shrugged.

     “Always a career option,” Sicheng said nonchalantly. Hendery rolled his eyes.

     “Yeah, and being a hitman is also an option, but do you think that’s a good idea?” Ten retorted. Renjun chortled.

     “Ironic—” Renjun started, before being met with a death glare from Kun. Chenle didn’t catch what Renjun was saying, too busy passing chopsticks around the table. Unfortunately, he had miscounted the number of chopsticks and scurried to the drawer to grab another one.

     “I thought you got a 98% on your math test?” Hendery asked teasingly. Chenle stuck his tongue out at him before digging into the bowl.

     “Sometimes I really question,” Xiaojun said as he took the seat beside Chenle, “how come our parents are so smart, yet we’re all so dumb?” All eyes turned to Yukhei, except Kun’s.

     “What did I do?” Yukhei asked, offended, but not unexpected.

     “Guys, don’t be mean. Yukhei’s really smart, alright? He just, uh, makes bad decisions sometimes,” Kun finished. Yangyang choked on his rice.

     “For once in our lives, can we eat a peaceful meal without roasting someone?” Sicheng sighed.

     “Alright guys, so at the mall today I saw this brand new pair of shoes...” Ten said, trying to change the topic. The conversation turned towards Ten’s obsession with fashion. None of his brothers noticed that Chenle, who by this time was halfway through his bowl of spicy rice, was starting to have trouble keeping his eyes open. Chenle put down his chopsticks. Yukhei looked up.

     “Lele, are you alright?” Yukhei asked. Chenle shook his head.

     “I’m so tired,” Chenle muttered.

     “Do you want to sleep early?” Kun asked. Renjun and Hendery shared a look that Chenle did not notice. Sicheng, who ate crazy fast, stood up.

     “Come on, let’s get you to bed, alright?” Sicheng said gently. Chenle let Sicheng guide him to the room.

     “I’ll go check up on him,” Kun said, “Xiaojun and Yangyang are on dish duty,” Yangyang groaned. Kun shot him a look before walking to his and Chenle’s room. When he pushed open the door, Chenle had already tucked himself in, blankets pulled up to his chin. Kun’s heart couldn’t handle the cuteness.

     “Did you brush your teeth?” Kun whispered, brushing Chenle’s hair back. Chenle nodded sleepily.

     “Alright, sleep well,” Kun whispered. He shut the door quietly after himself. Kun took a deep breath before moving to the living room. Ten raised an eyebrow in a tacit question.

 

     “I fucking hate this Toyota,” Renjun muttered. Hendery slapped the back of the driver’s head for insulting his car. They had been driving since midnight, making their way to the target.

     “First of all, it’s a Lexus, not a Toyota,” Hendery began, “Secondly, you wouldn’t be here without my baby, so shut the fuck up,”

     “Ok guys, please stop arguing,” Kun said, trying to calm the hormones. He was busy on his phone, pulling up the mission briefing as Renjun drove the car to the destination.

     “Mission #127,” Kun read, “Target: Police database.”

     “This shit easy,” Ten muttered. Kun ignored him.

     “Plant the given bug on any port in the database, allow for configuration,  remove the drive, and exit the building,” Kun said.

     “That’s it?” Yukhei asked, “no fanfare from my dear mother?” Renjun scoffed.

     “You really think Mom gives two shits about us anymore?” Renjun asked as he pulled into the left lane.

     “Your father wrote this, actually,” Kun corrected. The brothers scoffed again.

     “Makes sense,” they mutter.

  


     “Hendery, are we in range?” Renjun asked. Hendery was mad typing on his laptop.

     “In 40 meters, yes,” Hendery replied.

     “Alright,” Renjun replied. He parked the car on the street opposite. Hendery was still typing.

     “Ok, internet, accessed. Codes and passwords… done. And then, allow me to access CCTV…,” Hendery muttered to himself as his fingers flew over the keyboard, “got it. Road is clean. And then...ok...and then I just...loop this repeatedly...done.” He had taken a brief, three second recording of every security camera in the building and on the road. He then redirected all the cameras to send information to his laptop. Doing this leaves a hole in the recording, which would be filled with the three second video on loop. No security footage of their presence would be here tonight. Unless Hendery got careless and forgot when they left. That would be bad.

     “Comm link check,” Hendery said.

     “Kun, in” Kun said into his mic as Yukhei put in his earpiece.

     “Ten, in” Ten said lazily. This mission was going to be boring, and Ten hated boring missions. A little fight never hurt anyone.

     “ _Sicheng, eavesdropping,_ ” Sicheng’s voice crackled to life. Kun snorted. There was never a mission that Sicheng _didn’t_ eavesdrop. Unless he was participating.  

     “Yukhei, in” A pause after Yukhei’s confirmation.

     “Xiaojun, are you gonna eavesdrop?” Hendery asked. A no from Sicheng, and Hendery turns off the channel titled “XJ”.

     “Alright, Renjun’s hooked up,” Hendery muttered to himself, hearing his own voice echo slightly in the car.

     “ _Yangyang, eavesdropping_ ,” Yangyang said finally. Hendery adjusted the volumes of the mic channel of Yukhei’s mic turning down the volume slightly, because Yukhei was known to be very loud.

     “Is Chenle still sleeping?” Kun asked gently. He has a soft spot for his little brother. 

     “Yeah,” Sicheng replied, “I told you I measured out the right dose,”

     “But he didn’t consume all of it, did he?” Kun asked. A pause.

     “It should still suffice,” Sicheng muttered, sounding slightly unsure.

     “Hendery, start,” Kun said. His voice had gone from gentle and warm to cold and calculating. Hendery shivered. Leader Kun had replaced Mom Kun. And Leader Kun was a force to be reckoned with. Hendery hit the record button.

     “This is mission #127. The date is September 31st. The time is 01:34,” Hendery began, “Five on this mission: medic, driver, hacker, and two fighters. _One generation plants the trees,_ ”

     “ _And the next will get the fruit,_ ” the others echo over the line. Hendery takes a deep breath.

     “Here we go,” Kun muttered.

 

     Ten loves missions. Ever since his first one at nineteen, he’s been hooked on the adrenaline rush, the way his brain zeros in on targets, and the sense of accomplishment afterwards. But this one was way too easy. Ten liked the difficult ones, the ones where there was much more drama involved. The ones where he could use more of his training, just to rub in Uncle Qian’s face that yes, the scrawny, short kid could fight, could do shit with his life. But perhaps the best part of missions is that Yukhei would finally remain silent for more than ten minutes.

     “ _Security on the fourth floor_ ,” Hendery’s voice came through the earpiece. Yukhei cursed. He had planned on not having to actually fight anyone today, having not had a coffee at ten. Caffeine is the drug of the gods.

     “Roger,” Ten whispered. Suddenly, the night was much more entertaining.

     “ _Second floor, head to the east side staircase,_ ” Hendery said, “ _Door to east staircase, passcode is 0867,_ ” Yukhei followed Ten up the stairs, copying his motion and pulling his mask up. When they reached the top of the staircase, Ten punched in the code, and the door clicked open.

 

     “ _Hendery, I’m sure you know this, but you’re the best,_ ” Ten’s voice filled the car as a distant sound of a door being pushed opened creaked. Hendery snorted. Renjun was still in the driver’s seat, seatbelt still on, checking his phone repeatedly for traffic updates. Kun sat in the backseat, watching the little green dots move on the blueprint of the building. He glanced up at the red dot, pacing on the fourth floor of the building. Suddenly, the sound of something being dropped filled the car. Kun’s heart rate skyrocketed.

     “ _Sorry guys, I tripped,_ ” Yukhei muttered. Ten snorted. Kun tried not to go into cardiac arrest. 

     “ _He tripped over the top step,_ ” Ten supplied.

     “ _You try controlling six feet of limbs, oh wait, you’re like five feet tall,_ ” Yukhei retorted. A grunt. Ten probably punched Yukhei somewhere. Kun sighed. Luckily, Hendery cut across them, saving Kun a headache.

     “Security has moved to east side, fourth floor,” Hendery updated, glancing at his laptop.

     “ _What floor is the target on?_ ” Ten asked.

     “Seventh, the topmost floor,” Kun replied. Yukhei groaned.

     “ _So many stairs,_ ”  

 

     Chenle woke up in the middle of the night. A glance at the clock tells him it’s almost two AM. Chenle groaned. A headache was starting to form in the back of his head, calling for him to go back to sleep. He glanced down at the bottom bunk, only to find it empty of Kun. Where was his brother at such an hour? A muggy thought forms in the back of his mind.   _He must be at the convenience store down the street._ His brain seemed unsure, but he convinced himself, crawled  out of bed, shoved some clothes on, grabbed his keys, put his shoes on, and walked out the door.

     Chenle’s headache was really bad. It was starting to grow from a slight discomfort to a throbbing one. His vision seemed fuzzy and unclear. Chenle’s foot slipped a little on the wet sidewalk. He was sure that he’d walked to the right street, so he made a left. Suddenly, his headache returned in full force, pounding so bad that he slumped against the nearest wall, his thoughts muddled. Footsteps approached, and Chenle’s instincts screamed at him to move, but his brain wouldn’t respond.

     “Look, it’s a pretty little boy,” a gruff voice said. Chenle slid down the wall, not even bothering to run anymore. His heart was pounding, and terror gripped his mind.

     “He looks drunk,” another one commented. Chenle’s legs felt numb.

     “Who would let such a pretty little boy be alone at this hour?” the first person said. Chenle’s fear seemed to push out the fog, little by little. Someone had grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wall. His head slammed against the cold, hard brick, forcing a scream, but adrenaline kicked in pushing the headache away. Chenle screamed again and kicked his foot out, catching someone’s stomach. A low grunt, but he was still firmly pinned to the wall. Tears of panic start to build up in his eyes.

     “Aww, is the pretty little boy crying?” Hot breath fanned his neck, and Chenle turned his face away. He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally saying goodbye to each of his brothers.  The world seemed to collapse on itself, all sounds tuning out, only his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Another voice cuts into the alleyway.

     “Hey!” the boy shouts. Everyone freezes.

     “What are you doing?” The boy yelled again. His eyes land on the smaller figure against the wall, and his insides writhed in anger.

     “Put him down, you sick bastards!” He shouted.

     “If you wanted a piece, you could have just asked,” the man in the black jacket scoffed.

     “Leave him alone!” he yelled again, mind working quickly. The one pinning the boy down grinned, a sadistic, evil grin that made the other boy shiver.

     “Take me instead, you know who I am?” the boy said. Both men stop and stare.

     “I’m wanted,” the boy said, “and I have four million in reward money on my head.” The men stare at him. The boy smiled at them. Meanwhile, Chenle had blinked opened his eyes, the world aligning itself on its axis. He glanced where his attacker was looking, at the boy at the end of alleyway, his red-copper hair reflecting the light of the streetlamps. _Is that an angel?_ Chenle made eye contact with the boy, whose face seemed to go through a range of emotions in a split second, before his expression neutralized again.

     “Well? Come on then,” He called out to the men again, taunting them. The man holding the other boy down shoves the smaller against the wall again, before barreling down the alleyway towards him, the man in the black jacket following. He caught the boy’s gaze again, eyes pleading to him, a silent scream. _Run._ And Jisung takes off.

 

     Jisung runs away from the alleyway, hoping to give the other boy time to escape. He has a million questions swirling in his mind. _I’m sure it was the same boy from the apartment building two weeks ago. What is he doing in this part of the town? At this time of night?_ Jisung turns right, straight into another small alleyway. He jumps, his hands grabbing for the window ledge. The men round the corner as Jisung pulls himself up the second story. Jisung sends a smile down to them, before pulling himself up the roof. He lets himself catch his breath, before jumping roofs towards Jaehyun and Taeyong’s shop.

 

     Chenle gave himself ten seconds to breathe, and pulled himself off the wet cement. He runs the opposite direction as the boy with copper hair. He glanced at the street sign. He turned left and ran straight home, his headache returning as the adrenaline wears off. When he gets home, he changes back into his pajamas, and heads straight to sleep, still in disbelief.

 

     “ _Chenle is MIA_ ” Sicheng’s voice comes over the comm. Dead silence.

     “What the fuck do you mean,” Kun’s voice is grave. Sicheng isn’t affected by the simmering anger in his tone.

     “ _He seemed to have snuck out,_ ” Sicheng said. He hadn’t heard the door opening, but Chenle wasn’t in the house. Suddenly, the security panel beside the door emitted a soft _ding_ , indicating that someone had used their apartment number to enter the main gate.

     “That’s Chenle,” Hendery muttered, looking down at his phone. His phone had lit up at the exact same time as the security panel on the wall, having tapped into it within hours of moving there. Kun breathed a sigh of relief.

     “Sicheng, I’m never letting you be in charge of Chenle ever again,” Kun threatened. Sicheng huffed.

     “ _What do I do, confront him? But then I’d have to explain where you guys are,_ ” Sicheng asked.

     “No, go back to bed, Sicheng-ge,” Renjun said, “Erase all evidence of him leaving, so when he wakes up, he might think it’s just a dream,”

     “ _On it,_ ” Yangyang said.

     “ _Hendery, I need updates,_ ” Ten hissed. He and Yukhei had made it to the seventh floor and found the tech room. Yukhei was busy cracking the lock on the door. Hendery snapped back to his laptop. They had avoided the guard on fourth floor, but the fiasco with Chenle meant that there had been no updates for two minutes.

     “ _Shit, sorry. Guard is on the fifth floor now. I think he’s working his way up,_ ” Hendery’s voice came through the earpiece just as Yukhei unlocked the door.

     “ _Chenle’s sound asleep again and I’ve cleaned up the floor,_ ” Yangyang said. Kun thanked him.

  


     “Got it,” Ten said as they went in. The stacks of wires and blinking lights immediately made Yukhei cringe. Computers were definitely _not_ his thing.

     “What do I do now?” Yukhei asked, bringing out the flashdrive from his pocket.

     “ _Plug it in anywhere, when I say so, remove it,_ ” Hendery said.

     “Done,” Yukhei said as he plugged the drive into the nearest port. Hendery’s furious typing was audible through the comm.

     “ _In ten seconds, pull it out,_ ” Hendery said. Ten counted to ten and pulled it out.

     “ _Guard is on the sixth floor,_ ” Kun said. Ten and Yukhei shared a look.

     “ _Contact unavoidable,_ ” Kun stated, “ _Anticipate hand-to-hand combat. I don’t see a weapon._ ” Ten and Yukhei shared another look, before coming to a silent agreement. Yukhei was better at hand-to-hand combat, while Ten was better with weapons. Leaving bullet holes in walls would be suspicious if the security cameras had not picked up anything. They made their way to the east staircase’s door.

     “ _Contact in sixty seconds,_ ” Kun said. The tension was palpable in the car. Renjun had already started the engine, and Hendery was preparing to insert the loop back into the camera footage. From here, it was all Kun and the fighters.

     “ _Contact in forty-five seconds,_ ” Kun’s voice echoed in Sicheng and Ten’s room, where Sicheng, Xiaojun, and Yangyang sat on Ten’s bed, anxious for them to get home. There was no sleep when their brothers were on missions. There was no way they _could_ sleep, their thoughts filled with worry.

     “ _Contact in thirty seconds,_ ” Yukhei’s heart raced. He unbuttoned the pockets of his black cargo pants where his knives where sheathed and pulled his black scarf over his hair and forehead.

     “ _Contact in fifteen seconds,_ ” Ten wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans, the holster of his illegal gun heavy on his hip. He would only serve as backup, but if Yukhei couldn’t take someone down, Ten most definitely could not. He could shoot, but he can’t afford to miss. He and Yukhei positioned themselves on opposite sides of the door, with Ten on the hinge side, so that he would be temporarily hidden from sight.

     “ _He’s pushing open the door to the east staircase,_ ” Kun said. Yukhei felt his hands clench. As soon as the door opened, Yukhei send a kick to the man’s shins. Any severe damage, and the camera tampering would be uncovered. The guard was surprised for a brief second, but quickly regained his bearings. Yukhei sprinted down the hallway, ducking behind a cubicle. He jumped on the desk, watching the guard run after him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ten slip out the closing door onto the staircase. Yukhei leapt over the dividing wall between the cubicles, and continued running. He would rather run than fight. But the guard needed to be stalled in some way, and fighting was the only way to deal with the ticking clock. Yukhei made a circle back to the tech room, where the staircase door was visible directly behind him. Yukhei stopped, turned, and put his arms up.

     Ten sees it before Yukhei does. A flash of silver by the guard’s hand. Ten yells out, his voice echoing in the staircase, but the door is closed. He watches in heart-pounding silence as Yukhei sends another kick to the man’s head, but he blocks it. Yukhei jumps away from the man, limping slightly. Ten repositions himself to run as the man throws a punch. Yukhei catches his arm and twists it behind him. The knife up the guard’s sleeve falls out, covered in Yukhei’s blood. Yukhei twists the arm a little more, the man crying out as his shoulder dislocates from its socket. Yukhei kicks at his knees, sending the man to the ground. He grabs the knife with his own blood in it, smears his foot across the dots of blood on the carpet, and makes a beeline for the staircase. Ten pushes open the door with his foot, spray bottle in hand. As soon as Yukhei steps into the staircase, Ten sprays his wound, a thin film forming over the cut and stopping the bleeding. They run, running back to the safety of Hendery’s car and Renjun’s skill. Ten whispers updates as they sprint.

     “ _Yukhei’s hurt,_ ” Ten’s voice comes over the car. His voice is strained, and Yukhei’s hard breathing can be heard as well.

     “Where?” Kun asked. His hands gripped the car’s door, knuckles turning white.

     “ _Guard had a knife up his sleeve, cut my leg,_ ” Yukhei panted. Kun nodded. A cut was easy to deal with.

     “Blood?”

     “ _A few drops that I smeared into the carpet. Too little for extraction, much less analysis,_ ” Yukhei heaved.   

     “ _Already sprayed,_ ” Ten gasped, just as they broke into the parking lot. Kun, a medical lawyer by name, but a surgeon at heart, can tell, from the silhouettes of Ten and Yukhei, that Yukhei’s injury is on his right leg, since he’s favoring his left right now. Ten’s a good twenty paces ahead of Yukhei, and Kun climbs to the backseat, vacating the passenger side for him. In the adapted trunk of the car, Hendery’s  furious typing comes to a stop; a sigh as he successfully reinserts the loop into the CCTV.

     “ _Ten, shotgun,_ ” Kun said. Ten makes a beeline for the other side of the car. Kun pushes open the door for Yukhei.

     “Renjun, go!” Kun shouted as soon as Yukhei’s hand grabbed the handle. Renjun’s foot comes down on the accelerator hard, the car’s modified engine immediately reacting to his command. Hendery reaches over and pulls the door shut as Kun inspects Yukhei’s leg.  Renjun expertly maneuvers the car across the roads and speeds onto the highway, weaving seamlessly into the constant bustle of city traffic.

     “Mission #127, success. Minor injury. The time is 02:47 AM,” Hendery said, ending the recording.

     “Sicheng, Yukhei needs sutures,” Kun said.

     “ _How many?_ ” Sicheng asked. Kun gauges the wound on Yukhei’s calf. The thin, colorless film had stopped the bleeding, giving Kun a clear view of the cut. A long one, but not too deep. Perhaps not even a scar if Kun was careful.

     “Twelve,” Kun replied. Yukhei groaned.

     “I hate stitches,” Yukhei muttered. Kun ignored him.

     “Renjun, how long until we get home?” Kun asked. Renjun glanced at the car’s traffic maps.

     “I estimate fifty-one minutes, if I drive legally,” Renjun replied, eyes back on the road. Kun thought for a second.

     “Make it forty-five,” Kun said. Renjun nodded. So illegally it was. Nothing they had done tonight was legal, might as well be criminals all the way. Renjun loved roads. Something about driving, being in control of something bigger than himself, which was a lot of things, called to him. He drove often, making his rounds around the city after classes, familiarizing himself with the roads, blockages, and police hotspots. When a location was mentioned, his brain worked like a GPS, instantly giving him different routes to take and when best to take them. His position on the team was unofficial, but they wouldn’t become the best in the branch without him.

 

     “Really? I literally _just_ washed my covers,” Sicheng groaned as Xiaojun lead Yukhei to  his white sheets. He knew that only he had his own bed, rather than a bunk, but he washed them _yesterday_. Kun shot him a look, and Sicheng scurried away to grab one of Kun’s many medical kits, stashed away in places Chenle would never look.

     “Yukhei-ge, hold still,” Yangyang whispered as he cut away the fabric at Yukhei’s knee.

     “Aww, I only wore these once,” Yukhei said as he watched the pant leg fall into the wastebasket.

     “Buy another pair. These are ruined anyway,” Yangyang shrugged. Money, they had plenty of.

     “Does Yukhei think he can tolerate the pain?” Sicheng asked, emerging into the room with a box in his hand. Yangyang raised an eyebrow at Yukhei in question.

     “Let’s just move it, so I can sleep,” Yukhei muttered.

     “Guess that’s a yes,” Yangyang replied, taking the box from Sicheng. Sicheng backed out of his room and headed to Kun’s to check on Chenle. Despite the movement in the rest of the apartment, Chenle remained asleep, his hair falling over his eyes a little. Sicheng smiled to himself and closed the door.

     “Only twelve,” Kun said as he put his gloves on. Yukhei pouted.

     “Can I hold your hand, Dr. Kun,” Yukhei asked half-jokingly. Kun rolled his eyes.

     “Yangyang, hold his goddamn hand,” Kun ordered, threading his needle. Yangyang stuck his hand out, and Yukhei grabbed it. Yangyang marveled at how a six foot man, trained from age eighteen to fight and kill, can’t take the pain of a couple stitches. Yukhei squeezed his eyes shut as Kun started to peel back the temporary bandage, blood oozing out a little.

     Ten came out of the shower just in time to hear Yukhei’s cursing. Xiaojun looked up at him from the couch. Ten shrugged, and Xiaojun shrugged. Yukhei being a baby over wounds was pretty common. Hendery was at the kitchen table, still on his laptop.

     “Do you ever relax and socialize?” Ten asked. Hendery shook his head, not taking his eyes off the screen.

     “I’m what most people call a _nerd_ ,” Hendery shrugged. Sicheng walked into the living room and plopped himself on the couch, scrolling through his phone. Ten glanced at him from the kitchen counter.

     “Sicheng, any updates from Asshole Qian?” Ten asked.

     “I heard that!” Kun called from Sicheng’s bedroom. Ten ignored him. Sicheng shook his head.

     “You’ve got to stop calling Uncle Qian an asshole,” Xiaojun said, “one day he’s gonna hear and he’s gonna roast your ass,”

     “Fight me,” Ten said, collapsing on the couch next to Sicheng. Sicheng was still scrolling through his phone when Hendery jumped up.

     “Guys, I can access literally every identified person in Seoul,” Hendery said quietly, sitting back down. A pause as the rest of them wait for him to explain.

     “The bug sends all the information to HQ,” Hendery said as he typed, “And I’m an admin, so I can see everything that happens in HQ’s database. It’s locked to non-admin people though, I’m guessing they don’t want others to know about this…”

     “So all I did tonight was get information that you could have easily hacked,” Ten muttered.

     “No, this is another level,” Hendery whispered, still typing, “I hacked the names, addresses, and other basic stuff, but this is so much more,” he paused, “did you guys know that the mechanic that fixed Yukhei’s car is actually a former gang member?”

 

     Even though it’s nearly 5 AM, Kun lays awake in his bed, thinking. The rest of the household is fast asleep. His thoughts wander everywhere, from his work, which he hadn’t done yet, to Yukhei’s leg, which was going to heal nicely. Chenle shifted on the upper bunk, and Kun sighed. _Chenle’s too young to remember,_ Kun thought, but he remembered. All of it.

 

_“Father, are you really taking me somewhere for my birthday?” Kun asked suspiciously. His father never took him or Chenle places personally. Work, he’s always said. The sudden offer seems extremely unusual._

_“Of course, you’re going to be eighteen. An adult, my son,” his father replied. Kun didn’t respond, watching Yangyang and Renjun tease Chenle._

_“Is this about Grandpa Huang?” Kun asked suddenly. Silence._

 

_Kun pondered over how to break the news for an entire week before Ten’s birthday. How does one casually say “Hey, I know this is kind of hard to believe, but our parents and grandparents are rich for a reason, and that reason is bad.”?_

_“I should have known,” Ten muttered to himself. Kun sighed._

_“I know how it feels, Ten. I felt the same a month ago,” Kun put his hand on Ten’s shoulder._

_“I knew our family was shady,” Ten said, face in his hands, “but I didn’t know we were_ this _shady,” Kun chuckled._

 _“Yeah, out family is_ this _shady,” Kun said, “Our parents are in the mafia,”_

 

_It’s easier the second time around, Kun finds. He and Ten sit Sicheng down at the second floor kitchen of the HQ after giving him the tour._

_“Huh, I assumed so,” Sicheng said. Kun is taken aback._

_“You knew?” Kun asked. Sicheng shook his head._

_“Not really, but Ten talks in his sleep sometimes,” Sicheng shrugged._

_“So are you in?” Kun asked. Half of him begged eighteen-year-old Sicheng to say no, half of him begged him to say yes._

_“Yes”_

 

_“Oh my god, are we like the Sicilian mafia, but Chinese?” Yukhei asked. Sicheng rolled his eyes. Kun twirled his thumbs. And another one turns eighteen._

_“This isn’t the Godfather, alright?” Ten said. Yukhei ignores him._

_“Oh my god, this is so cool! I’m totally in,” Yukhei said. Kun sighed._

 

_“Huh,” Xiaojun muttered,  “Who else is in?”_

_“The four of us,” Kun said._

_“And the rest of our entire family,” Sicheng added._

_“As in, everyone over eighteen,” Ten amended. Xiaojun thought for a moment._

_“But aren’t we all going to Korea soon?” Xiaojun asked. Kun sighed._

_“We’re relocating to the Seoul branch, Grandpa Huang means to let us lead the Seoul branch,” Kun said. The wording of the will was bright, but the intention was clear to anyone who knew. “A new chance at life” was a nicer wording than “have them take over the branch”, but Grandpa Huang did allow them to choose._

_“Kun-ge said I had a choice,” Xiaojun said tentatively._

_“You don’t have to join, but should you choose not to, you will attend college overseas, and never make contact with us again, to protect both you and the family,” Kun said robotically. Xiaojun thought for a moment._

_“I mean, I guess that’s not much of a choice,” Xiaojun said, “it’s either ‘join the mafia’ or it’s ‘disappear over yonder’. I guess I’m choosing to stay,”_

 

_“I already know,” Hendery said when Kun sat him down on his birthday. Kun raised an eyebrow. Sicheng choked on his wine._

_“I’m not majoring in computer science and at the top of my class for nothing, Kun-ge,” Hendery said, “I want to be a hacker,”_

_“Already? You’ve made the decision without me telling your the terms and conditions,” Kun said._

_“Blah blah blah, have a choice, join the gang, don’t tell the little ones, pick a skill, train, take over Seoul, yata yata yata,” Hendery shrugged, “nothing is a secret once it’s in a computer. I’ve already got it all”_

_“Apparently an attitude as well,” Ten muttered._

 

_Renjun came to Kun the day before his eighteenth birthday._

_“I want to be a driver,” Renjun said. Kun is confused. Do kids these days have bus drivers as their dream jobs?_

_“Like, as a profession?” Kun asked._

_“No, I want to join the gang as a professional getaway driver,” Renjun said. Kun’s brain stopped functioning for a second._

_“Huh?” Kun asked again. Renjun sighed._

_“What language do I have to say this in for you to understand? I want to join the mafia,”_

_“Are you sure?” Kun asked. Renjun nodded._

_“I’m going to stick by my brother,” Renjun said quietly, before perking up, “Without me, he’d probably forget to take a shower or something stupid.” Kun chuckled._

_“I heard that!” Yukhei yelled from the adjacent room._

 

_“Do I have to pick a skill set now?” Yangyang asked. Kun shook his head._

_“You don’t have to, but I’d say you start getting good at something,” Sicheng said._

_“Or go to the center,” Yukhei said._

_“Don’t go to the center,” Ten said, glaring at Yukhei. Yukhei shrugged._

_“What’s ‘the center’?” Yangyang asked, eyeing Ten and Yukhei._

_“When you start, they always train you on fighting, unless you’ve already stated your skill,” Ten explained. Sicheng nodded._

_“There’s a place for the mafia-in-training in Seoul?” Yangyang asked. Sicheng laughed._

_“The dojo that’s under the dance studio? That’s the center,” Sicheng explained. Yangyang was surprised._

_“Does that mean that Ten actually doesn’t dance there, he fights?” he asked._

_“Hey, I still dance, just, not as much as I shoot stuff, I guess,” Ten shrugged. Yangyang frowned._

_“Can I still be undecided and not have to go?” Yangyang asked. Kun nodded._

_“You have until Chenle turns eighteen to decide, but I’d start thinking of what you’re good at, and what you’re interests are,” Kun said, “you’re lucky most of us have the general areas covered, so you have more options,”_

_“Covered? Spill,” Yangyang said._

_“I’m a medic, not surprisingly,” Kun said, “Med school at seventeen was kind of a big indicator,”_

_“Fighter, duh,” Ten said, “actually, I’m more of a sniper, because that shit’s fun,”_

_“Uh, so I kinda cook meth…” Sicheng said, scratching the back of his head. Yangyang’s eyes go wide._

_“So that’s what you used your degree in chemistry for?” Yangyang asked. Sicheng smiled sheepishly._

_“I do stocks,” Xiaojun cut across, “business major, also kind of expected.”_

_“Hey, you skipped me,” Yukhei said, “I’m also a fighter, but more hand-to-hand combat, because Ten is a wuss and is too short to actually deal damage above the kneecaps,” A slap from Ten._

_“Hacker,” Hendery said, unamused._

_“I expected that one,” Yangyang muttered._

_“I drive,” Renjun smiled._

_“What?” Yangyang wasn’t sure he heard him correctly._

_“A professional getaway driver, engineering ” Renjun stated._

_“Everyone majors or has a degree in what they do, mostly,” Kun summarized._

_“I major in linguistics and take six languages, how does that help?” Yangyang asked._

_“Negotiator,” Kun replied._

_“And don’t tell Chenle, hide it from him like we did with you, so he doesn’t get his childhood ruined,” Sicheng said._

_“He’s sixteen, almost seventeen, he’s not a child anymore,” Kun muttered. Yangyang’s humor returned._

_“If Chenle isn’t a child, then you must be walking with a cane,”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the timeline in this one is messy, so here's the breakdown:
> 
> 7/8 PM- China-line eats, Chenle gets drugged by Sicheng (uwu sorry my baby)  
> 10/11 PM- Jisung leaves for the warehouse  
> 12 AM- Renjun and the squad leave for mission  
> 1 AM- Jisung heads back, Renjun and the squad begin mission  
> 2 AM- Jisung saves Chenle in the alley (but Chenle doesn't know its him)  
> 3 AM- Chenle returns to apartment  
> 4 AM- Renjun and the squad return, Kun stitches up Yukhei  
> 5 AM- Kun finally gets to sleep
> 
>  
> 
> Sneak peek at chapter 4:  
> Kun is angry. An angry Kun is never a nice Kun, Sicheng knows, but he knows what Jiang and her men did. They deserve what is about to come. No one feels the wrath of Qian Kun, heir of the Chinese Mafia, and still lives to talk about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heavy stuff?  
> unedited, I'll go back later, but not now, sorry.  
> TRIGGER WARNING (although it's already tagged)  
> -Helena

     Kun tapped the contents in the beaker. Beside him, Sicheng scribbled in a notebook.     

     “I think that’s it,” Sicheng said.

     “Chloral hydrate,” Kun nodded.

     “Sleeping powder,” Sicheng confirmed. Kun surveys the collection of jewelry before him; three bracelets and five rings. He takes a jade ring, unscrews the gem to reveal a cavity. Carefully, Kun fills the cavity with the white powder and replaces the jade.

 

     Chenle blinked his eyes open groggily. The world spun for a moment, before righting itself. Chenle sat up, rubbing his eyes. A glance at the clock told him it was almost eleven.

     “Morning, Lele,” Kun said, not looking up from the piles of paper on his desk.

     “Morning, Kun-ge,” Chenle croaked, voice laden with sleep.

     “Are you alright? You seem more tired than usual,” Kun said.

     “Something weird last night…” Chenle muttered. Kun’s heart stopped.

     “What do you mean?” Kun asked gently. Chenle got down from the upper bunk.

     “I don’t know, I was running somewhere,” Chenle said, walking over to the bathroom.

     “Running where?” Kun asked.

     “I don’t know, I was just running, and my arms kind of hurt,” Chenle pauses. He was sure he hadn’t hallucinated the boy in the alley. Right? He doesn’t mention the copper-haired boy to Kun, scared that he would have to explain.

     “It was just a dream,” Kun said reassuringly. Chenle nodded. That’s what it must have been. A dream. But the boy with copper hair...

     “I guess,” Chenle said.

     “Pancakes are on the table!” Kun called after the closing bathroom door.

 

     “Donghyuck, I literally _just_ said to put the milk back in the fridge,” Taeyong hissed. Donghyuck ignored him.

     “‘M thirsty,” Donghyuck drawled, still half asleep. Mark padded into the kitchen, a hand in his hair, eyes blinking.

     “Hyuck, why did you leave me in bed by myself?” Mark murmured. Taeyong made a retching motion.

     “Eww, what have you two been doing?” Taeyong asked. Mark snorted.

     “Nothing worse than what you and Jaehyun do at night.”

     “I just wanted some fucking milk,” Jaehyun groaned. Jisung’s brain vaguely registered the conversation in the kitchen, still in slumber.

     “Do you guys sleep at night or do y’all just fuck all night?” Donghyuck asked blantlanty. Jaehyun choked on his milk. Taeyong slapped the back of his head.

     “We’re gonna wake Jisung if we keep talking,” Jaehyun said, and the four of them lowered their voices a bit. Too late, Jisung was already awake. Jisung pulled himself upright, blinking his eyes open.

     “Why are you guys talking about fucking, it’s literally eight in the morning,” Jisung groaned, pulling himself up. Taeyong glanced over.

     “Jisung! You’re awake!” Taeyong said, “Pancakes?”

 

     Xiaojun knew something was off with Chenle. He knew from the moments when Chenle seemed spaced out, confused, disoriented. Chenle was thinking, Xiaojun knew.

     “Chenle, are you alright?” Xiaojun asked, watching Chenle punch three hours into the microwave instead of thirty seconds.

     “Huh?” Chenle jumped, obviously unaware of Xiaojun, who had been standing behind him for two minutes. Chenle glanced at the microwave and quickly corrected the numbers, sending Xiaojun a sheepish smile.

     “You seem to be acting funny,” Xiaojun said as he sat down with his phone, no doubt scrolling the news.

     “I just...I’m fine,” Chenle said, “I just had a weird dream, that’s all.” Xiaojun raised an eyebrow.

     “Well, aren’t you dreamy,” Xiaojun said, returning to his news article. Chenle grabbed the softened butter from the microwave plopped down across from Xiaojun.

     “Well, if I describe it to you, promise not to laugh, alright?” Chenle said. Xiaojun put his phone away and sat forward.

     “Ok well,” Chenle began, twirling his fork around the syrup, “I had a dream that I was walking somewhere, and something jumped out of an alley. I think I was punched? I don’t remember, but there was this _figure_ that just came and saved me.” He took a sip of his chocolate milk. Xiaojun said nothing, so Chenle continued.

     “The figure, I guess, I think it was a boy? I’m not sure,” Chenle rambled, “but it had the most beautiful hair, and…” Chenle stopped, gauging Xiaojun’s reaction, which was painfully neutral.

     “And what?” Xiaojun coaxed. Chenle’s cheeks started to turn pink.

     “Promise you won’t laugh at me,” Chenle pleaded.

     “It’s just a dream, right? It doesn’t matter,” Xiaojun said casually.

     “Well, I thought the figure was an angel,” Chenle whispered. Xiaojun cracked a grin.

     “Aww, our little Lele has found _love!_ ” Xiaojun yelled out to the apartment. A screech, probably Yangyang, followed by Sicheng cursing, then by Kun yelling at Sicheng from across the house. Ah, just another day in the house of Qian Kun and associates.

 

     “But whyyy?” Chenle whined as Sicheng threw a pair of shoes at Hendery. Kun sent Chenle as stern glance. Everyone except Xiaojun and Chenle were dressed in their club outfits. Skinny jeans, flashy shirts, and makeup; nice, but nothing to make them stand out.

     “Because you’re a minor,” Kun replied. Chenle pouted. Renjun squeezed his cheek.

     “Don’t worry, Lele, we’ll be back by midnight,” Yukhei replied.

     “It’s just a nightclub,” Ten pointed out as he pulled on his shoes.

     “Yeah, it’s not like we’re robbing a bank and holding hostages, relax,” Sicheng said. Kun shot him a glance. _Too close to the truth_.

     “Then why don’t you take me?” Chenle asked. Xiaojun and Yangyang made eye contact, telepathically communicating. Yangyang raised an eyebrow.

     “Hey, Lele, you wanted to beat Renjun on Mario Kart, didn’t you?” Xiaojun asked.

     “Yeah, but a club is more fun,” Chenle frowned.

     “Hey, but you know who Renjun can’t beat on Rainbow Road?” Xiaojun asked.

     “Hendery-ge,” Chenle replied. They laughed at Xiaojun’s despair.

     “Alright then, I guess I won’t show you how to throw that red shell perfectly,” Xiaojun shrugged and started walking away. Chenle stood in the lobby, stuck between going to the club and defeating Renjun.

     “Clubs are only fun if you can drink!” Ten yelled out suddenly. Sicheng held him back.

     “Hell no, if you get drunk I’m leaving your sorry ass there,” Sicheng said.

     “Nah, make Chenle carry me,” Ten said. Chenle frowned. The last time Ten came home drunk was not a fun time.

     “Alright, fine, I guess I’ll stay home,” Chenle said.

     “Bye guys!” Xiaojun waved as they closed the door.

     “Ok, so where’s that red shell?” Chenle asked, turning on the console. Xiaojun smiled, making sure his phone was right next to him.

 

     Jaehyun is here on a mission. Sure, he has long since parted ways with the group, but they still came to him, time to time. He was their best, and they weren’t going to give up. But tonight, with Taeyong on his arm, he’s here to find the information he needs. He sits by the bar, waiting for the atmosphere to get more drunk and dizzy before he pounces.

     “Yongie, don’t drink too much, you have a shit tolerance,” Jaehyun whispered to Taeyong. Taeyong reluctantly put his drink down and buried his face in Jaehyun’s chest. Jaehyun felt his heart swell. Drunk Taeyong was always a cute Taeyong, but not tonight. Tonight, someone is coming. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and takes it out. A text from Mark.

_I have visual_

_7_

 

     Here we go, Jaehyun muttered to himself.

 

     If the boy on the roof was trying to hide, he wasn’t doing a very good job. Ten saw him from the moment they arrived. To be fair, the boy was well hidden. But to a sniper’s eyes, it was quite obvious that the shadows were of a figure, short haired, crouched down behind a pipe.

     “Don’t look now, but upper left has a pair of eyes,” Ten murmured in Chinese. Ten takes out his phone and, under the guise of taking a selfie, zooms in on the spot. Sure enough, there’s an oddly shaped lump at the top. Kun gives an infinitesimal nod. They approach the bouncer, get their fake IDs checked, and enter.

     “Disperse,” Kun whispered. Sicheng grabs Ten and heads to the dance floor. Kun takes Renjun to the bar to sit and observe. Yukhei wanders around, acting charismatic and enchanting everyone. Hendery and Yangyang make a beeline towards the bathroom, where Hendery can tap the cameras with his phone.

 

     Jaehyun notices them the moment they step in. No one else would have expected the young men to be criminals, but Jaehyun’s always been good at identifying his own. He taps Taeyong’s shoulder.

     “I gotta go, babe,” Jaehyun whispered. Taeyong looked at him with fear in his eyes.

     “Nothing will go wrong,” Jaehyun reassured his boyfriend, “I just need to talk. But remember what you promised me.”

     “Please don’t say that,” Taeyong whimpered, clutching at Jaehyun’s arm. Jaehyun gently pried his fingers off, but Taeyong clung like an octopus.

     “I love you, Taeyong,” Jaehyun said, giving Taeyong a light kiss on the cheek.

     “I love you too, Jaehyun” Taeyong whispered. He let go of Jaehyun’s arm and watched his boyfriend disappear from his line of sight.

 

     Yangyang had been washing his hands for the past five minutes, seemingly insistent on exfoliating each of his fingers. In reality, the running water was to mask the small beeps from Hendery’s phone. When Hendery finally came out of the stall, Yangyang breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to lose his fingerprints if he kept scrubbing.

     “Done,” Hendery murmured into his link.

     “ _Good,_ ” Kun replied.

     “ _Target is moving,_ ” Yukhei adds. Kun glances over to where Yukhei was, sitting in a booth with a girl.

     “ _Keep his partner entertained, find out if he’s dangerous,_ ” Kun said. Yukhei nodded and gave the girl a grin before walking over to the silver-haired boy sitting alone on the stool. From the edge of the dance floor, Sicheng saw Jaehyun head towards the bathroom.

     “I think _you_ need to use the bathroom,” he said. Ten nodded.

     “Can you get the keys?” Ten asked. Sicheng nodded. Ten gave him a clap on the back and walked away.

 

     Yukhei pulls up a stool next to the silver-haired male. He flashes him a charming smile.

     “May I buy you a drink?” Yukhei asked. The smaller male jumped.

     “Uhh, no thanks, I’m just waiting for my boyfriend,” he replied. Clever. A denial and a statement that he was taken. Too bad Yukhei wasn’t falling for that today.

     “I’m not here to hit on you, heck no,” Yukhei laughed, “you just seemed lonely, and I could buy you a drink.”

     “In that case, just one please,”

     “My name’s Lucas, and you are?”

     “Taeyong,”

     “Well, Taeyong, how was your day today?” Yukhei asked calmly. Anything to keep him distracted.

 

     Sicheng is a good actor. Heck, he even majored in acting. But one thing he was not good at? Seduction. Unfortunate, really. Because here he was, trying to make his way closer to the older man in the back. A wealthy man, Sicheng knew, but also a target. On that man’s person somewhere was a ring of keys. Keys to unlock the one and only Seoul Museum of Art. Putting on a hazy facade, Sicheng made sure to swing his hips as he danced, made sure to have that look in his eyes. _Fuck, I fucking hate seduction. Makes me look like Ten when he’s high off the second-hand smoke from the girls that smoke weed downstairs._

 

     Jaehyun knew he was being watched. He knew he was being followed. But he also knew that they wouldn’t attack unless he initiated, which he does not intend to do. At least not tonight. He pulls the door of the men’s room open, careful to glance at the back, just to check the lock. He’s not surprised to see two of them in there already. He acts a little drunk as he stumbled to the end of the bathroom to do his business. To his surprise, the two boys that were initially there had left by the time he’d come to the sinks. Soon after, another person walks in, a full head shorter than him. Jaehyun feels a sense of eerie familiarity about this person.

     Sure enough, as he’s drying his hands, one of the two boys from the beginning walks back in. This time, there’s no hiding it, as he locks the door to the bathroom behind him. Another person emerges from the back, leaning against the wall behind the other one.

     “Jung Jaehyun,” the boy said, “Age: 23. Formerly an elite member of the Jopok, and now just a mechanic. What a drastic lifestyle change.” Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, just tosses the paper towel away and adjusts his shirt in the mirror.

     “I’m not here to fight you,” Jaehyun said finally. The boy raised an eyebrow.

     “Well, then I think I should introduce myself,” the boy said.

     “Liu Yangyang and Chittaphon, better known as Ten,” Jaehyun said. Yangyang doesn’t seem fazed at all, bursting out in laughter. Ten seems bored, pulling out a sheet of paper towel and folding it into a crane.

     “Guess not,” Yangyang said, “let’s get down to business, then.”

     “You have something that I want,” Jaehyun said first. Yangyang seemed to ponder this. A flash of light catches Jaehyun’s eye. A piece of silver that looks like an earring, but is in the wrong place. An earpiece.

     “And what is it that you want?” Yangyang asked.

     “A password to grant me access,” Jaehyun said. An earpiece meant that Yangyang had a wire. The boy didn’t even bother to hide it.

     “Of course,” Yangyang said, “we have the bug in the database, and you want to restart your life. That’s not unreasonable.”

     “But I know Qian Kun never makes a losing deal, so what do you want from me?” Jaehyun asked.

     “Information,” Yangyang replied. Jaehyun steeled his nerves. It had been almost four years since Jaehyun left the Jopok. Anything was outdated.

     “I want to know if Seo Junghun had any children,” Yangyang said. Jaehyun reeled back.

     “Seo Junghun is dead, why does it matter?” Jaehyun asked. Seo Junghun, kingpin. He was shot and killed as he made his way out of his limo and into his mansion.

     “Of course he’s dead,” Ten muttered, “I shot him myself. Bullet between the eyebrows, clean and clear.”

     Yangyang smiled, “I want to know of he had children, all of them.”

     “He had two sons and a daughter,” Jaehyun whispered, his brain bringing memories of his childhood.

     “And they are?” Yangyang asked. Jaehyun frowned.

     “The daughter died in infancy, I don’t think she made it past three years old, but the sons…” Jaehyun paused. His brain quickly rewinded their conversation.

     “I’ve already answered your question,” Jaehyun said suddenly. Yangyang seemed taken aback for the first time that night, before he, too, seemed to recall the wording of his question.

     “Ah, yes,” Yangyang smiled. Ten reluctantly leaned forward, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket. Jaehyun took it in his hands gingerly, scanning the slip before tucking it in his pocket.

     “You have one hour from the moment you input the password,” Ten said, “After one hour, the password is void.”

     “Thank you,” Jaehyun said. The paper felt like a hundred tons in his pocket. The one slip of paper can grant him a new life, a free will, and a chance to redeem himself.

 

     Chenle cheered in victory as he beat Xiaojun in another round of Mario Kart. Chenle was too caught up in the game to notice Xiaojun’s increasing stress. It was already past midnight. Where are they?

     “Chenle, I think you should go to bed,” Xiaojun said, putting down his controller. Chenle pouted.

     “But I just got good at this!” Chenle said. Xiaojun smiled at him tiredly.

     “I want to sleep,” Xiaojun said. In reality, he needed to check up on the boys.Yangyang and Ten were still in the bathroom, according to Kun. Renjun had already left and started the car, pulling it out of the garage. Yukhei was talking to someone, but he hadn’t activated his microphone. Xiaojun got up and tried not to be distracted as he made sure Chenle got tucked in.

     Sicheng was not having a good night. He’d already danced his way around this guy four or five times, and there were no sign of the keys. He’d trusted the mission data; what if that was a mistake? Sicheng shook his head. No way. Mission data is almost never wrong. Sacrificing his dignity, he puts in a flirtatious attitude and saunters right in front of the man. He’s keenly aware of the eyes that linger. He turns, catches the man’s eye, and giggles into his hand before making a beeline for the center of the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the man suddenly stand and follow him. Sicheng turns around, almost taunting as he stands right in the center of the floor. He tries not to gag when the man grabs his arm and puts a hand at his waist.

     “You’ve been teasing me all night,” the man said, breath of stale alcohol fanning Sicheng’s face. Sicheng tries to breathe as little as possible.

     “Teasing?” Sicheng asked innocently. The man pulls Sicheng flush against him. _There._ Sicheng feels something poking at his chest. _The keys are in the breast pocket._

     “Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing,” the man said. Sicheng laughed, pushing himself away from the man slightly.

     “Come dance with me,” Sicheng said breathily, swaying to the music. Within the first five seconds, Sicheng decides that the man is a horrible dancer. Within the first five minutes, the man has his hand around Sicheng’s waist again. Sicheng tries not to scream.

     “Let’s take this somewhere private, you and I,” the man said. Sicheng’s brain goes into overdrive.

     “Is there an upstairs?” Sicheng murmured. He knew there was. There was no way he was letting this man take him anywhere from this club.

     “After you, sweetheart,”

 

     Sicheng isn’t like Yukhei, who has knives strapped to the inside of his coat and to his legs. Even when he’s wearing jeans, Yukhei has at least four knives on him. But Sicheng only has two, plus a jade ring. Sicheng weighs his options as he is led upstairs. A plan forms in his head.

     “Sorry sir, may I use the restroom quickly?” Sicheng asked as soon as they stepped in. the man grunted, and Sicheng side-stepped him quickly. Once he’d locked the door, he pulled off his left shoe, lifted the sole, and took the four-inch knife from the sheath. He tucked the knife into his jeans pocket and covered it by untucking his shirt. He quickly double-checks the powder in the ring, estimates that it should be enough, and slips it up his sleeve. Smiling to himself, he walks out of the bathroom.

     Sicheng says nothing as he walks around to the other side, other hand already unscrewing the jade. He hugs himself lightly, acting scared and small.

     “I’m nervous,” Sicheng whispered, keeping up his mask. The man sat up, and leaned in close.

     “Don’t be,”

     “Go to sleep, I think you’re tired,” Sicheng said gently. With a huff, he blew the powder into the man’s face. There’s a brief moment of confusion on the man’s face, before his eyes roll back into his head and he falls, face-planting on the floor.

     “That’s what you get, scumbag,” Sicheng said, kicking his head for good measure. He walks over to where the man has carelessly left his blazer on the chair. He quickly imprints the keys into the wax mould, casting perfect replicas of the keys. Sicheng tucks the keys back into the man’s pocket and leaves.

 

     “ _Sicheng, complete,_ ” Xiaojun breathes a sigh of relief as Sicheng confirms his mission.

     “ _We’re coming home,_ ” Kun said.

     “I’m waiting,” Xiaojun said. He relaxes, all the tension flowing out. Suddenly, he feels the weariness seeping in. He trudges from the couch to the bathroom, ready to collapse into bed.

     He’s just finished brushing his teeth when the security panel lights up.

     “Back so soon?” Xiaojun muttered. No, something was wrong. He glances at the monitor.

     “Hendery, we have a problem,” Xiaojun said into the comm link.

     “ _I saw,_ ” Hendery said, “ _Kun-ge, they’re here,_ ”

     “ _What’s happening?_ ” Ten asked.

     “ _Jiang is here,_ ” Yukhei whispered.

     “ _Call code red_ ” Hendery commanded. Xiaojun opened the panel and typed the code. Two beeps resounds from the panel. Signal sent. A ping immediately sounds from Xiaojun’s own phone.

     “ _We’re not going to make it in time,_ ” Renjun said gravely. Xiaojun’s heart rate picks up.

     “I’m not going down without a fight,” he said, “Chenle’s still in his room.”

     “ _Lock his door,_ ” Kun said. Xiaojun locks Chenle’s door, grabs his knives and Ten’s spare handgun. He’s not a fighter, but he’s only looking to stall.

     “How long?” he asked.

     “ _Twenty minutes,_ ” Renjun said, “ _Thirteen if I floor it._ ”

     “Floor it,” Xiaojun said. He pulls on his shoes and smashes a glass right in front of the door. He shuts off all the lights in the apartment, leaving only the comm link connected. Darkness would give Xiaojun the advantage; not only does he know the layout of the house, but his eyes would have already adjusted to the darkness. Jiang may have the advantage of numbers, but Xiaojun has the advantage of a home turf and sheer brainpower. He hides behind the kitchen island, two bottles from Kun’s infinite supply of rubbing alcohol placed beside him and striking matches in his back pocket.

     A suspenseful silence takes over the apartment, aside from the few buzzes from the panel. The click of the jammed door lock is deafening. For the first time since he joined, Xiaojun feels afraid. He’s not afraid of death. He’s afraid for Chenle. Innocent little Chenle, who has probably never seen blood in his life. Xiaojun hears the door creak open. The glass crunches, and curses ring out. Each step on the glass is a clue for Xiaojun; he knows where they are, but they don’t know where he is. He mentally tallies the steps. _There’s six of them, and one of me._ _Think smart._ The telltale shadows of moving flashlights dance across the walls. Carefully, Xiaojun unscrews the bottle of alcohol and tips it over, letting it run over the tiled floor. One of the gangsters gives a shout, and all the flashlights are on the kitchen counter, aimed at the now-empty bottle.

     “Behind the counter,” someone said. Xiaojun strikes his match, letting it fall into the alcohol, mentally thanking Sicheng for his ceaseless chemistry lessons. The bright alcohol-induced flame temporarily blinds the attackers, and Xiaojun fires two shots. _One down, five to go._ A scream. Someone must have gotten burned as well.

     “Xiaojun-ge?” A small whisper from the hallway.

     “Chenle, run!” Xiaojun shouts. Chenle’s petrified expression pains his heart, but Xiaojun needs to stall. _Please hurry._ His voice gave away his position, he realizes belatedly, when one of the bullets hits the wall above his head. He ducks behind the couch, the next shot millimeters away from his hand. He grabs his throwing knives and aims, slicing the Achilles tendon of another. He’s too slow to duck down. Suddenly, pain shoots up from his right shoulder, blood leaking through the torn material of his sweatshirt.

     “Shit.” His throwing arm is out of the game, the pain making him see double.

     “Come on, let’s play,” one of the attackers says. Xiaojun grits his teeth and shoves against the couch, hard, sending it toppling over. His brief distraction is enough to buy him a second, and he fires a shot with his left arm. He misses, and the bullet slices the man’s shoulder, but he doesn’t fall; instead, he charges at Xiaojun, who only has enough time to block his kick before a punch hits him in the side. Xiaojun feels the wind being knocked out of him. He aims a kick at the man’s jaw, a resonating crunch sounds when his foot meets its target. A voice in the back on his mind asks a question. _Where are the other two?_ His momentary distraction gets him another hit, this time directly on his injured shoulder. He yells out, white-hot pain flashing in his vision. His brain vaguely registers a second kick coming at him. He sidesteps, but not enough, the kick hitting him in the back of the knees. Xiaojun falls, his jeans tearing on broken glass, digging into his skin. In the corner of his eye, he sees the silver flash of a gun aimed at him. Before he can react, a distinct scream freezes him in his tracks.

     “No more fighting, pretty boy?” the person holding the gun asked. The voice is female, and rings a distant bell in Xiaojun’s pain-addled mind.

     “Chenle,” Xiaojun whispered. The woman laughed.

     “We came here for him, you know,” she smirked, “nothing would hurt Qian as much as knowing his youngest son was kidnapped.”

     “He’s innocent, don’t hurt him, please,” Xiaojun pleaded. The lights flip on. Jiang points her gun directly at the back of Xiaojun’s head, almost taunting him.

     

     Chenle knew something was wrong the moment his phone lit up. The words **_CODE RED CODE RED CODE RED_** flashed threateningly at him. He tapped on the notification, scared but curious at the same time.

     “Chenle, if you see this, don’t panic,” Kun’s recorded voice comes through his phone, “try to leave your situation as fast as possible. If you’re out, don’t come home. If you’re at home, find a way out. Leave your phone at your current location, and do not carry any electronics on your person. Hide somewhere, stay safe, and we’ll always find you.” Chenle tried to hold onto the comforting but fleeting moments of his brother’s voice. Chenle quickly followed Kun’s orders, pulling on his jeans and a sweatshirt. He just finished tying his shoelaces when he heard it. The sound of broken glass. Chenle is paralyzed. Mysterious voices float their way from the kitchen. A scream. A gunshot. Chenle’s brain repeats Kun’s words, and Chenle quietly steps out into the hall. The stench of smoke and the metallic smell of blood invades his nostrils and accelerates his heart, terror racing through his mind. His eyes catch a figure dart past him.

     “Xiaojun-ge?” he asked quietly. He notices the burn marks on Xiaojun’s jacket and the gun in his hand.

     “Chenle, run!” Xiaojun shouted at him. Chenle turned and sprinted into his room. He quickly locked the door behind him and tried to open the window. Footsteps from the other side of the door were coming closer. Chenle managed to force open the window just as the door was broken down. He grabbed the railing, trying to pull himself out, but he was too slow. A hand wrapped around his ankle and yanked him backwards. Chenle’s hands lost their grip the railing as he fell, a scream leaving his lungs when he hit the ground. He is pulled up by the arms and shoved against another body. A sudden, icy coldness is pressed against his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Chenle froze.

     “Don’t move, don’t scream, and I won’t cut your throat,” a man whispered in his ear.

     “Where are you taking me?” Chenle asked quietly. His mind was surprisingly calm for someone who was being kidnapped.

     “Don’t worry, as long as your dear daddy pays us the money he owes us, we’ll bring you back without a scratch,” the man sneered. He steers Chenle towards the door, his partner following close behind.

     “My father doesn’t owe anyone money,” Chenle said defiantly. He promptly shuts up when he felt the knife digging in a little harsher.

 

     Xiaojun heard him before he saw him. Chenle, ever obstinate, won’t give up. His eyes find Chenle’s and they hold each other’s gazes.

     “So endearing,” snickered the woman, “say goodbye to your little brother.”

     “Don’t take him, please, he’s innocent,” Xiaojun pleaded again, throwing aside all his pride and dignity. She laughed mockingly.

     “I love hearing a Huang beg,” she sneered. Xiaojun sees red. Chenle manages to connect some of the dots.

     “Why are you attacking our family?” Chenle asked. Xiaojun held his gaze.

     “You don’t know, do you?” Jiang laughed, “Your grandfather was the kingpin of the mafia. Your father was his protégé. But now, your father is the kingpin and your brother is his heir.” Chenle absorbed the information silently.

     “You really didn’t know,” she cackled, “where do you think your family gets their money? You think your brother’s and your cousins’ hands are clean? You think that revenge wouldn’t come for them?” Her voice rose to a shriek. Chenle won’t believe this. He looked Xiaojun in the eyes again. Xiaojun wouldn’t meet his eyes. Chenle closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

     “Fine, take me,” Chenle said, “I’ll go willingly.”

     “No!” Xiaojun yelled.

     “On one condition,” Chenle cut across, his voice surprisingly stable. His eyes meet with Jiang's.

     “You leave Xiaojun-ge alone, safe. Never come back to this apartment again,” Chenle held her gaze. She smirked.

     “You have guts, my boy,” she said, “deal.”

     “Deal,” Chenle confirmed. The man dropped the knife from his neck. Another person pulls out a piece of white cloth and hands it to the woman.

     “What is that?” Chenle asked.

     “Chloroform,” she replied. Xiaojun doesn’t fight back, knowing that it would only result in hurting Chenle. He lets her cover his mouth and nose with the cloth, and the blackness creeps in.

     Chenle knew the exact moment when Xiaojun was unconscious. He watched as Xiaojun’s eyes closed, watched as he went limp, his body falling forward onto the rug of their living room. Only then did Chenle notice the blood on his arm. Before he knew it, he was being shoved towards the door, down the stairs, and out the back door and into a van.

     “Cooperate,” a man whispered, pressing the same white cloth to Chenle’s face. Chenle tried to hold his breath, but failed. His mind flashes one final image of the boy with copper hair before going dark.

 

     They heard it. All of it, in the car, its speakers amplifying the chilling gunshots. Xiaojun purposefully left the comm link connected. Six minutes after the link goes silent, Renjun pulled the car to the front of the building. They all sprint out, leaving Renjun to park the car. Kun is the first one through the apartment door.

     Silence. Glass crackled under his feet as he walked in. Kun glanced at the windows. None of them are broken. Sicheng walks straight towards the burn on the wall. Hendery is the first one to notice Xiaojun on the floor, yelling out.

     Kun has done so many bullet-wound surgeries in his life, he could probably do one in his sleep. But those were always done on the runners, or the thieves, or the hitmen. Never would he have thought that he would pull a bullet from Xiaojun--bookworm, mathematician Xiaojun. Yangyang grimaced at the wound as he dabbed at the blood. Kun silently thanked whoever decided to knock Xiaojun out, because it meant the surgery could go faster with much less pain.

     When Kun steps into the kitchen, he is met with five expectant faces. Just thinking of what the Jiang and the Jopok had done tonight made Kun’s blood boil. Sicheng can feel Kun’s rage, hot and cold at the same time. An angry Kun is never a nice Kun, Sicheng knows, but he knows what Jiang and her men did. They deserve what is about to come. No one feels the wrath of Qian Kun, heir of the Chinese Mafia, and still lives to talk about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE I LOVE THEM ALL, OKAY. I JUST HAPPENED TO GIVE XIAOJUN A CHARACTER THAT MEANT HE WAS MORE LIKELY TO STAY AT THE HOUSE RATHER THAN GO OUT. 
> 
> Alcohol fires burn really brightly, but not as hot. They also burn out super quick, so no lasting damage, unless something else was caught on fire. Xiaojun knows what he's doing, I promise. 
> 
> Chp5 spoiler:  
> Chenle blinked at the window. For a moment, he's unsure whether he's awake or dreaming, because the same copper hair from his dreams is just outside the window.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes, schedule? never heard of her  
> 7.5 K words? :)))  
> -Helena

     He dreams of his mother.

     Her smile, the way her eyes shone like the stars. Her hand leading him up the stairs of their family’s mansion. Her soft, melodic voice when she read him and Kun stories before bed. He dreamt of how his father dropped the mask when she was around, a loving, nurturing father.

     She died when Chenle was six years old.     

     Kun told him it was a car accident that killed her. Chenle believed him for a long time. After her death, their father cracked. Gone was the gentle, caring father. Chenle hadn’t seen him smile genuinely since the morning of his mother’s death. Instead, strange women started to show up at the mansion, and Kun always made sure that Chenle spent the night at Aunt and Uncle Huang’s with Yukhei and Renjun when the strange women came. Chenle realized much later that they were prostitutes.

     A year before they left for Korea, when Chenle was fourteen, Kun and his father had a major argument. Chenle tried to run away from the argument, but the house was big and empty, the echoes of shouts were inescapable. He shut himself in his room, pulling his plushies close. Yet still, the words haunted him.

     “You’ve never cared for him like a father should!” Kun yelled. A crash.

     “Don’t tell me what to do, you little son of a bitch,” their father spat.

     “Don’t you call my mother a bitch,”

     “That’s all she was, a cold, lying bitch,” their father scoffed back.

     “Get out of the house,” Kun’s cold tone cut through the marble house.

     “This is my house!”

     “No, it’s not. This house was always my mother’s. You chose to never marry her. Her property and possessions rightfully belong to me. Her son. I am the rightful owner of this estate. Leave. Before I report you for trespassing to the police, and we all know how _that_ would go,” Kun said. Chenle felt the tears building up behind his eyes. There’s silence, before the sound of the garage door opening rang out through the house. Thirty minutes later, Kun knocks on Chenle’s door.

     “Chenle, let’s eat,” Kun said, voice weary. Chenle hastily dried his tears, straightened his shirt, and opened the door.

     “Is Father really gone?” Chenle asked quietly. Kun paused.

     “Yes, he’s gone,” Kun said. Chenle nodded and quickly dropped the subject, sensing Kun’s reluctance to talk about it. Chenle remembers every single word of that argument. Sometimes he wonders; if his mother was there, would she choose her sons, or would she choose the man she loved? Chenle likes to pretend that she would choose her sons, even though he knows she had chosen the man she loved. Despite Kun’s white lies, he knows she didn’t die in a car accident. She was killed.

 

     Chenle blinked, trying to make sense of the world. His eyes focused on the ceiling above him, a dull gray with slashes of black, as if someone had tried to angrily mark up the sky. He was lying down on a bed of sorts, a thin mattress placed on the ground. He sat up slowly, still in his sweatshirt and jeans. His shoes were gone, probably to prevent him from running very far, should he escape at all. The only source of light was the window in the corner, a small, pitiful thing that was missing glass, instead sealed over by some type of clear plastic that shuddered and threatened to give out each time the wind blew. Chenle stood up, shaky on his feet for a moment, before walking over to the window. Iron bars glared back at him from outside the plastic. Chenle took a step away from the window and its unyielding iron bars. He walked over to the door, trying the handle. Locked. Of course. His attempts did, however, attract the attention of someone outside. The sound of a key turning in the door made Chenle step back, scared of what was to come. To his surprise, a girl walks in, not much older than himself.

     “Uh, hi,” she whispered, closing the door after herself. She puts the backpack she carried on the ground. Chenle doesn’t reply.

     “I think you might be hungry, so I brought you some food,” she said nervously, taking out water bottles and sandwiches from her bag. Chenle is suddenly aware that his throat is parched and his stomach empty. He nods his thanks when she hands him a bottle and a sandwich.

     “I’ll talk, you eat,” she said. Chenle nodded again, taking a seat on his mattress before sipping from the bottle of water. She sat down on the floor across from him, her hand unconsciously twisting a ring on her left hand. A simple silver band with something etched onto the outside.  

     “I’m Hua,” she said, “before you ask me, no, I did not want to be part of your kidnapping. I was born into this lifestyle, much like you are.” Chenle doesn’t react, but deep inside, he pities her. In a sense, Chenle knows, he pities himself, too.

     “I’m sixteen,” she continued, “and my mother is the one who kidnapped you. Your cousin, the one who took down Haomin, is fine. Haomin, though, is not.” She laughed, surprising Chenle.

     “To be honest, I think I should thank you. Haomin is such an asshole,” she said.

     “How do you know Xiaojun-ge is fine?” Chenle asked, speaking for the first time, his voice cracking from disuse.

     “I saw Sicheng carrying white sheets from the laundry room. There is no way they would have changed the sheets if he wasn’t stable enough to be moved.” she said simply. Chenle stared at her.

     “I live in the apartment beneath yours,” she answered his unasked question, “you know, the one that always smells like weed, because my roommates like to be high.” Chenle had never seen her in his life. An awkward silence settles over the room as Chenle continues to eat his sandwich. He contemplates escape, knowing that he could probably best the petite Hua.

     “Don’t even think about it, there are guards outside. They’re trained to shoot first, think second,” Hua warned. Chenle met her eyes. He decides to change the topic.

     “How long was I out?” Chenle asked.

     “Two and a half days,” Hua replied.

     “How long will I stay here?”

     “Until your father pays my mother the money he owes her,”

     “Why does my father owe her money?”

     “Beats me.”

     “Why are you nice to me?”

     “You don’t deserve this.”

     “Why do you think that?”

     “Because I hate her as much as you hate her,.” Hua said.

  


     “How is there literally no information on Jiang?” Hendery rubbed his eyes. He had been sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop for forty-eight hours straight, combing through police records, tracking all the toll booths for unregistered license plates. Yangyang sat next to him, head in his arms, having fallen asleep after making the tenth phone call of the night. The entire house seemed to stop living for three days. Hardly anyone slept, emotions running too high. Xiaojun was ordered bed rest after Kun spent hours pulling glass out of his knees. Ten and Yukhei left everyday to the training center, not wanting to be home when Chenle wasn’t. Kun and Sicheng was the only functional people left. There were still things to be done and bills to be paid.

     Kun had called his father the night Chenle was taken. Sicheng sat on the bed as Kun dialed, knowing that Kun and his father were not on good terms. Sicheng was there for emotional support. They had expected the boss to not react well. What Kun hadn’t expected, however, was the disdain in his father’s voice.

     “What do you mean ‘took Chenle’?” Qian asked. Kun seethed the tone of nonchalance in his father’s voice.

     “I’m telling you, that the Jopok’s Chinese head, Jiang, stormed our apartment, shot Xiaojun, and took Chenle,” Kun grit his teeth.

     “And you want me send resources to help you look for Chenle,” his father seemed skeptical. Kun saw red, slamming his fist onto the wooden desk, causing Sicheng to flinch.

     “How can you even say that?! Your _own son_ was kidnapped, and you’re just going to sit there in your penthouse with your whores and let Chenle suffer?” Kun yelled. Sicheng bit his lip.

     “And you expect me to place the life of a useless seventeen-year-old over the lives of trained fighters!?”

     “I can’t believe my mother fell for a man like you,” Kun growled into the phone.

     “Well, your mother is dead. Her opinion doesn’t matter anymore,” his father snarled back. Kun took a deep breath, trying to restrain himself from punching the desk again.

     “Fine, that’s fine. You keep doing your _business,_ ” Kun spat as much hate as he could into the word, rage trembling in his tone. Gently, Sicheng took the phone from Kun’s shaking hands.

     “Uncle Qian, this is Sicheng,” Sicheng said calmly, “I just want to talk to you for a moment.”

     “Who am I talking to?” The boss doesn’t know who he is. Sicheng almost laughed out loud.

     “I’m Sicheng, Kun’s second-in-command,” Sicheng said again, “I was just wondering if it would look good for your reputation if your men knew that you threw away the life of your own blood and bone. How would they still trust you to lead when you’ve thrown away true family?” Sicheng lets the words hang, hoping that they would convince cold-hearted Qian Long to agree. A beat of silence, before Qian bursts out in laughter.

     “No one knows Chenle even _exists_.”

     Silence.

     Sicheng hangs up the phone without another word. Kun squeezes his eyes shut, sitting down in the chair. Rage and despair hung in the air like a stench.

  


     “I cleared his name first,” Jaehyun said to Taeyong, pulling his arms around the slim waist. Taeyong looked up from his paperwork behind the counter.

     “You what?” Taeyong asked.

     “I cleared Jisung’s name first,” Jaehyun whispered, burying his face in his lover’s hair, “he’s still on the most wanted list, but his facial recognition is gone from the database. I’ve also shrunk his crimes to petty misdemeanors and changed most of them to before he was sixteen. Then, if he ever gets caught, he can have more mercy in the court, especially since he was much younger. It would have been too suspicious if the records were completely gone.” A beat of silence as Taeyong processes his words.

     “Did you alter your own?” Taeyong asked. Jaehyun nodded.

     “An hour is a long time for someone like me,” Jaehyun said, “Hendery did this on purpose, I’m sure.”

     “On purpose means clearing another fugitive’s records?” Taeyong asked.

     “Hendery is too smart a guy for him not to watch my every move.” Jaehyun said simply.

 

     Hendery watched Jaehyun change the data. He had set a notification for when the password was inputted, so he was alert and ready when his laptop gave a small _ding_. He watched Jaehyun’s every move. What surprised him was the Jaehyun had made a beeline for “Park” rather than “Jung”. What surprised him even more was that Jaehyun edited Park Jisung’s criminal history before his own. Hendery had never thought that Park Jisung and Jung Jaehyun knew each other, and definitely not close enough to the point where Jaehyun had chosen to clear Jisung’s name before his own. Hendery makes a mental note and continues to monitor the changes. The true reason he allowed one whole hour was to see if Jaehyun would help anyone else from Hendery’s suspect list of Jopok members. But Jaehyun hadn’t. Jaehyun had gone in, changed Jisung’s records, and then edited his own. He had logged out at the end of thirty minutes, effectively voiding the password. Hendery sat back in his chair after Jaehyun had finished. Jaehyun was smarter than Hendery gave him credit for; he was fully prepared to have to change the files if Jaehyun deleted them all, but Jaehyun didn’t. He had only changed them to less serious crimes, which meant that there was less suspicion of tampering, while still managing to be effective at reducing punishment. Hendery sighed, pulling up the original files, saving a copy of Park Jisung’s, before approving the changes. He read through the file, before saving the original on his own laptop. Curious, Hendery thought, curious indeed.

 

     Chenle doesn’t know what to do. He’s never had this much free time in his life, but now, handed with the burden of entertaining himself, Chenle finds that he has nothing to do. For the past four hours or so, he altered between taking short naps, sitting on the mattress, laying down on the mattress, and twirling his fingers. He weighed his options for a moment, before standing up and walking to the door.

     “Hey,” Chenle said. No answer. He smacked the door once.

     “Hey!” Chenle tried again. No avail. He hit the door again with his fist.

     “I gotta pee,” Chenle whined. Shuffling outside. _So there are guards outside all the time, dammit._

     “Shut up, kid.” Chenle noticed that the rough voice echoed a bit in the hall. _A big place, then._ Chenle pounded on the door.

     “I really, really gotta pee,” Chenle yelled. More shuffling.

     “Boss, kid said he’s gotta pee,” the same voice said. Crackling.

     “Then let him piss,” the female voice came over the comm link, slightly distorted, but still obviously recognizable.

     “Move away from the door, kid,” the man rasps. Chenle decided to listen, because the sooner he can make it to the bathroom, the better.

 

     “I think you and Ten should take the mission,” Kun said. Yukhei stood up, ready to protest. Kun put his hand up, silencing him.

     “You and Ten are going to wear yourselves thin. As much as I would love to drop everything to look for Chenle, we’ve spent three days and come up with nothing,” Kun said, voice firm, “therefore, half of us should continue to look for Chenle, while the other half should carry on with the proceedings. We can’t let Jiang beat us by playing our emotions.”

     “Kun has a point,” Sicheng interjected, “Hendery, Yangyang, and Xiaojun, when he recovers, will continue the search. Renjun will work with you and Ten to continue Mission #129.”

     “But…” Yukhei began. Sicheng shook his head.

     “This is the best option we have right now,” Sicheng said carefully.

     “Any pause in the schedule will make us look weak, and any weakness can be a chance for revolt,” Kun said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

     “I’ve been thinking…” he started quietly. Sicheng held his breath. Kun has had a strange look on his face ever since that phone call.

     “Yes, Kun-ge?” Yukhei asked, impatient. Kun shakes his head.

     “Never mind, you and Ten should leave at sunset tomorrow, along with Renjun. Hendery will still monitor everything from home. Yangyang will go with you guys,” Kun stated. Yukhei nodded grimly.

 

     Yangyang sat at his desk, glancing at the clock every five minutes. He had packed all of his own supplies already: his earpiece, mic, medical supplies, weapons. His hands were shaking from nervousness. Kun is entrusting him on this mission. Kun is entrusting _him_ to be the medic on the mission. Sure, he had seen Kun patch up almost everything, being Kun’s unofficial medical assistant, but to carry them out by himself? Yangyang had never done that before.

     A soft knock comes from the door. Yangyang jumped, startled. Sicheng pushes the door open slowly.

     “Come on, time to go,” Sicheng said gently. Yangyang nodded and stood up, grabbed his coat, and followed Sicheng out.

 

     Renjun’s hands are calm on the steering wheel of Kun’s minivan. They had decided not to take Hendery’s car, because Hendery didn’t need the boosted car battery, since he wasn’t with them. Kun’s minivan was also more spacious, and thus would fit the artwork better. Renjun knew that Kun’s car’s modified engine was not as new as Hendery’s, and therefore would not be able to accelerate quickly. Renjun sighed. Everything about Kun seemed old.

     “Renjun, how long until we get there?” Yangyang asked from the backseat.

     “Thirty-three minutes,” Renjun said.

     “Alright, guess I’ll read the briefing,” Sicheng said.

 

_Mission # 129 Part II_

_Once the keys have been copied, the Seoul Museum of Art is an open book. Enter into the museum, find vault #15. Steal the artwork that is on shelf B in isle 21. It is titled “Girl in a Rainbow Dress”._

 

     “So, I’m guessing the painting is of a girl wearing a rainbow dress?” Ten said sarcastically. Sicheng rolled his eyes.

     “Yukhei, are you connected?” Sicheng asked. Yukhei nodded.

     “Hendery, are you in?” Sicheng asked.

     “I can hear you, if that’s what you mean,” Hendery’s voice came over the link.

     “How do I get you into the museum?” Sicheng asked. Hendery hummed.

     “Ten’s comm link has a chip inside that I planted,” Hendery said, “as long as his earpiece makes it into the building, I have access.”

     “Why mine?” Ten asked.

     “Because I only had time to build one with HQ, and they’re basically useless without me,” Hendery said, “your comm link just happened to be the first one I grabbed.”

     “What would we do without you, Hendery-ge?” Yangyang asked.

     “Just focus on the mission, Yangyang,”

 

     Hua comes in later that day, when the sun has already set over the horizon. Chenle sits up immediately.

     “They’re gonna shoot the video,” Hua whispered. Chenle does not understand.

     “Shoot the what?” Chenle asked.

     “My mom wants your dad to have proof that she took you, so she’s going to threaten him,” she whispered under her breath.

     “But they know I’m gone,” Chenle said, “at least, my brother does.”

     “But not your father,” she replied, “he’s the target here.” Chenle doesn’t reply, just watching her tidy up the room quickly. He moves to help, but she puts up a hand to stop him, so he stands there awkwardly as she folds the blanket.

     “When we go out there, I need you to listen to me,” she said, placing the blankets at the foot of the mattress, “please, I know this is bad, but you have to trust me.”

     “Why?” Chenle asked, taking a step back from her, “you have given me no reason to.”

     “I know, but better me than them, right? Leave your jacket here. I know it’s going to be cold, but you’ll thank me later.” Hua said. Chenle sighed. He has no choice. He takes off his jacket, leaving him only in his white, long-sleeved shirt.

     “Open,” Hua said in a brave tone. Chenle noticed the slight waver in her voice. The door swung open and his arms were immediately seized. She walks out first, leading the way. Chenle lets the guards drag him after her, the cold of the floor leaking into his socked feet. His eyes sweep the building, careful to note as many details as possible. Hua eventually stop in front of a large metal door, only slightly bigger than Chenle’s door. She knocks and pushes it open. A simple wooden chair is placed right underneath the one and only lamp in the room.

     “Have a seat, Chenle,” she whispered. Her voice wavered again. _She is scared,_ Chenle notices. He is shoved onto the chair, his arms held down to the chair. With shaking hands, she ties his wrists down, firm, but not to harsh. He could still wriggle his wrists if he wanted. Her eyes sent him a silent message: _I’m sorry._

     “Hua-Lan, I’m proud of you,” a cold voice speaks up from the doorway. Hua noticeably flinches away from the sound.

     “Mother,” she said in a small voice. Chenle glared at the woman. He doesn’t break eye contact with her as she steps in, the shadows highlighting the empty, obsidian eyes. Hua moves to a corner of the room, trying to distance herself from her mother as much as possible. Chenle takes a mental note of that as well.

     “How does your throne feel, _prince of China?_ ” Jiang laughed. A cold rage floods him from the inside, but Chenle doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she hurt him, so he only tilts his head to the side and smiles at her.

     “A little colder than I would prefer it, but still a throne nonetheless,” he said. He gives himself a mental pat on the back when the smirk falls off her face, replaced with a scowl.

     “Start the camera,” she ordered, “gag him too, we don’t want him screaming over my words, do we?” When no one moves to silence Chenle, Jiang takes the whip off her waist and snaps it towards the corner, followed a small yelp. Chenle felt his rage boil.

     “Move, you little whore.” Hua scrambled up at her mother’s command, ripped a piece of duct tape, and scurried over. She doesn’t make eye contact with Chenle when she tapes the ends of it onto his cheeks. She didn’t even bother to tape it securely before hiding in her corner again. _She’s scared of her mother._ He knows not to purposefully rip the tape off, otherwise Hua will pay for it later. Instead, he sits still, a shiver going down his spine when Jiang talks again.

     “Hello, old man Qian, how are you today?” she asked, voice dripping with poisoned honey, “just reminding you that you took out $4 million from us seventeen years ago.” She twirls a silver knife in her fingers, the shiny metal catching the light.

     “I really want that money back. And our interest, don’t forget,” Jiang continued, “that would be a total of, hmm, $10 million? Plus a late fee of sixteen years, so let’s say $20 million. I know you’re old, but not old enough for your brain to stop working, so let me spell out a deal with you. You see, I’ve got someone with me today. Someone you haven’t seen in...five years?” At this, she takes a step back, the camera panning over to Chenle. He stares at the blinking red eye of the camera. Jiang makes her way behind him.

     “Such a young child,” she sneered, “I wonder how much he’s worth in the black market. You know, I heard that the demand for young boys is particularly high this year. He has such nice skin too.” Her blade traces his cheek, but not enough to cut. Chenle instinctively turns his head away from the icy knife, his wrists tugging on the rope for a moment, before he remembers and forces himself to still.

     “I’m giving you three days, Qian, three days. Today is Tuesday, but since this probably won’t reach you until tomorrow, I’m going to count it as Wednesday. On Saturday, if there’s no money, I’ll send you a finger. The day after? I’ll send an eye. After that? I will mail your son back to you. Piece. By. Piece. ” Chenle squeezes his eyes shut, his pulse racing in his veins. He wishes Hua had given him earplugs as well.

     “Don’t believe me? Let me demonstrate,” Jiang said. Chenle’s eyes fly open. She spins the fighting knife one more time before dragging the tip of it along his left arm, her other hand clamping down on his wrist. Chenle is frozen in fear, watching the knife blade hover over the fabric of his shirt before tearing into his skin. A muffled scream escapes him as Jiang drags the knife slowly down the middle of his forearm all the way down to the elbow, each agonizing second making Chenle’s vision burst into stars. When she pulls the knife out, blood has already started to run down the wood of the chair, forming a small stream that pooled into a small puddle underneath. Chenle’s cheeks are moist, his breathing coming in shallow gasps. Jiang nonchalantly takes out a rag and wipes Chenle’s blood off of her knife, taking her time as she does so.

     “Three days,” Jiang said into the camera, “three days, before it’s a finger.” His blood is still flowing freely onto the floor. Chenle’s head is starting to spin, the world shifting in and out of focus.

     “Cut,” Jiang said. Chenle lets his chin drop onto his chest. His arm roars with pain, though he knows it could be worse.

     “Hua-Lan, taken him back up there. Hopefully he knows how to tie a bandage out of his own shirt,” Jiang snapped, before slamming the door behind her. Hua quickly stood back up. Chenle faded out.

 

     Jisung walks the city streets, the flicker from the streetlamps providing the only light of the night.. He has no particular target in mind, just casually swiping wallets and dropping them a few feet later. He doesn’t know how far he’s wandered until he reaches the tattoo parlor that Jaehyun’s friend works at. Jisung glances at the shop. It looks like a shop from the movies, the kind that would be a front for organized crime. Jisung squints into the darkened windows of the shop, noticing the neon lights from inside. He makes a mental note of the location of the shop before moving on.

     He pulled his new coat tighter around himself, blowing air into his hands. In the distance, a police car’s siren comes to life. Jisung’s heart rate spikes, the nightmares coming to the front of his mind. He’s paralyzed, for a moment, by the claws that grip his mind, digging in, the fear that sets in. He smacked himself out of it. _Now is not the time, Jisung._ He mentally chastises himself before ducking into an alleyway, ears perked.

     The sirens seem to get closer and closer. Jisung glanced at the building in front of him. A two-story storefront.There are no ledges for him to grab onto. He gauges the width of the alleyway. It will be a challenge, but he was willing to do anything to put distance between him and the cause of his panic. He leaps, his foot out to push him immediately off of the wall of the first building. His hands shoot out, grabbing for the one and only window on the building opposite. He kicks his feet against the brick, using his hands to stabilize himself as he swung his leg over the roof. Only when his second foot is atop the shingles does he let himself relax, taking in where the police car is coming from. It comes from the direction of the city, Jisung realizes. _Why would the city’s police chase someone all the way here?_ Jisung glanced around. He was in the outskirts of town, where all of the dishonorables of society lived. Usually, the police would simply give up chasing for anything less than a murder. So it must be murder, Jisung reasoned. He shrugged, walking across the rooftop, careful to avoid the broken tiles on top of the roof. He leapt  from one building to the next, curious to see what kind of car was being chased. Surprisingly, it wasn’t one of the flashy cars, or all-black ones. The car was a simple light-blue minivan, a classic family car. _Interesting,_ thought Jisung, _usually, family people don’t go about commiting crimes._ He squints at the car. He must be seeing things, because someone just tumbled out of the car.

 

     “Fuck,” Ten muttered. Yukhei looked up from cracking the vault code.

     “What’s wrong?” he asked. Ten glanced at the hallway. Ten turns his head, listening for the sound again. There it was. Yukhei paused.

     “Shit,”

     “Approaching,” Hendery said in confirmation. Yukhei turned the knob one more time. It clicked.

     “Yukhei, go,” Ten said, making a split second decision. He nodded and him and handed Yukhei the tube for the artwork, who slung it over his shoulder.

     “If I don’t get you out in ten, call Sicheng,” Ten said, swinging his pack to the front and running towards the sound.

     “If you don’t get me out in ten, I’m going to suffocate,” Yukhei muttered, stepping into the vault anyway. The door shut with an ominous sound behind him. In the living room, Hendery put Yukhei’s vitals on the big screen, careful to watch his blood oxygen levels.

     Ten rummaged through his bag, pulling out a dust bomb and his knives. He pauses at a corner, waiting for the sound of footsteps to approach before throwing the dust bomb on the ground. He leapt over it, careful to shut his eyes and hold his breath. The confused yelling starts just as Ten’s made it around the corner. He takes off sprinting, hoping to draw the guards away enough to allow him to make a circle back to Yukhei.

     Yukhei knows he’s a thief, but even a mafia member has some morals. He makes a beeline for the one painting, leaving all the others unscathed. The vault is much bigger than he anticipated, and it takes him some time before he is actually able to locate the correct shelf, sift through the various boxes and frames wrapped in white cloth. _Aha!_ His gloved hands work quickly, pulling out the painting. Yukhei murmurs a silent apology to the girl on the painting as he carefully cuts it from the frame.He gently rolls the artwork up, slides it into the carrying tube and screws on the top of the tube. Yukhei glanced at his watch. Four minutes. Ten better make it back in six minutes.

     Ten knows he can’t take on all the patrolmen at once. Not only is he outnumbered, he’s also disadvantaged by the unfamiliarity of the museum. Did he know the blueprint? Sure. but definitely not as well as a security guard who works here every night. He takes a sharp right, slamming right into another body. Ten snaps out of his shock before the other person does, ducking right between his legs and sending him down with a kick to the knees. He keeps running, letting his Sicheng-made explosives unravel as he sprints. When he finally makes it back around, only the fuse of his homemade dynamite is still in his hand. With shaking fingers, Ten sets the fuse alight, listening to the gentle fizz before the spark dances around the corner. He turns and runs, the explosions going off behind him.

     “Yukhei, hang in there,” Hendery said. Suddenly, a notification flashes on his screen.

     “Fuck,” Hendery muttered. Sicheng and Renjun glanced at each other.

     “Police from sector 4 are moving,” Yangyang said, glancing at his tablet, “I’m guessing someone in the museum triggered something.”

     “Ten, Yukhei, remove yourselves as swiftly as possible.” In moments like these, Yangyang truly understands why Sicheng is the second-in-command. His voice is calm but commanding with an underlying urgency.

     “Yukhei, how are you holding up?” Renjun asked, a hint of worry in his tone. It’s been twelve minutes since Yukhei entered the vault, and Ten’s dot was still too far.

     “Managing,” Yukhei replied. He felt fine, not yet nauseous from the lack of oxygen. But his breaths were speeding up involuntarily and his hands were clammy under the gloves. He takes a seat in the corner of the vault by the doors, making sure to take in deep breaths.

     “I’m coming,” Ten gasped as he sprinted towards the vault. There was no way he was leaving Yukhei behind. Yukhei, who had trained with him as soon as he was able to, his partner-in-crime since the beginning of time. Ten glanced at his watch. Fourteen minutes.

     “Hendery, I need the code!” Ten panted into his mic.

     “I don’t have it,” Hendery said. Ten cursed under his breath.

     “Yukhei?” Sicheng asked. Yukhei only groaned in response, too tired to muster up a sentence. Renjun’s hands grip the wheel with white knuckles.

     “Fuck, Yukhei, I hope you’re not close to the left wall of the vault, because I’m about to blow it up,” Ten yelled. Yukhei gathered his bearings for about three seconds to comprehend Ten’s words and scampered away just as Ten set off Sicheng’s infamous sodium-potassium bomb.

     “Holy shit,” Renjun muttered as the blast echoed in the car. Sicheng doesn’t respond, watching something from the rearview mirror.

     “Renjun, start the car,” Sicheng said.

     “But they’re not here yet!” Renjun protested.

     “Now!” Sicheng ordered. Renjun floored the accelerator as soon as the engine had roared to life. Yangyang glanced up from the tablet, looked out the back windshield, and made a split second decision.

     “Hendery! Make the traffic lights green on Sixth Avenue and Exodus!” Yangyang said. From the end of the line, Hendery’s furious typing could be heard, before the light suddenly changed colors. The cars going in the opposite direction started moving, effectively creating a barrier between the police and Kun’s minivan. Renjun pulls the car around to the front of the museum before slowing it down. Exactly seventeen seconds later, Ten and Yukhei have dragged themselves into the van, Yangyang already placing an oxygen mask over Yukhei’s mouth and nose. Renjun floors the accelerator as the police close in.

     “Why am I always the one hurt on missions,” Yukhei slurred, half-awake.

     “Shut up and inhale your oxygen,” Yangyang smacked his arm. Ten sat in the seat beside Yukhei, an arm behind his head, catching his breath.

     “Sit tight,” Hendery said, “looks like you’re all in for a ride.” He watches the car’s location travel faster and faster as Renjun picks up the pace. Renjun’s mind is clear, his brain working overdrive to supply different routes and options. He knows that turning is risky, since the action inherently slows the car down. Besides, the police could split up and corner them. Or worse, the helicopters would come. Then there is truly no escape. There is only one way to win in this game: wit. Sicheng checked his phone for confirmation, before coming up with a plan.

     “Yangyang, reach under your seat and hand me the huge wrench,” Sicheng said. Yangyang digs through the spare tire compartment and passes it to Sicheng.

     “Hendery, track my location, my wristwatch is on,” Sicheng said. A confirmation from Hendery. Sicheng removes his earpiece and mic, leaving them on the passenger seat of the car. They would be ineffective out of range. And, if he got caught, nothing would lead to the rest of them.

     “Renjun, turn the corner and let me out, ok?” Sicheng said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Renjun nods, counting down from three. When he counts to one, Sicheng rolls out onto the sidewalk. In the car, Ten pulls the passenger door shut. In moments like these, ideas don’t need to be explained; they all trust each other enough to make a good judgement, running like a well-oiled machine.

     Sicheng pulls his cap on and walks in the opposite direction of the car. He keeps his eyes peeled for what he’s looking for in an ideal location. He runs down four blocks before he finds it. He pulls the wrench from his back and unscrews the top of the fire hydrant, letting the water spray out of it and onto the street, follow the topography and running down the slope. He pulls out his phone and shoots Hendery a text.

     “Renjun, Sicheng wants you to go from the west to the east on along Zen Street,” Hendery’s voice came alive in the car.

     “Roger,” Renjun makes a sharp left turn, sending Ten and Yangyang crashing into the left side of the car.

     “How far until they’re here?” Sicheng asked as soon as he answered Hendery’s call.

     “Twenty-six seconds.” Hendery said, “assuming Renjun holds a constant speed, of course,”

     “Alright,” Sicheng said. He picks up his bottle of barium hydroxide and lets the white powder fall into the growing river of water cascading down the street. When Renjun’s headlights reflect from the street below, Sicheng tips over the bottle of ammonium nitrate, the two chemicals mixing together. Renjun sees Sicheng just as Sicheng is shoving the bottles back into his bag and floors the accelerator. Yangyang has already opened the side door and reached a hand out, grabbing Sicheng’s and pulling him in when they pass by. The tires of Kun’s minivan effectively mix the barium hydroxide and the ammonium nitrate, freezing the water from the fire hydrant.

     “That was really smart,” Yangyang said as he watched the police cars struggle up the now-icy slope. The red and blue flashing lights grow dimmer and dimmer as the distance increases. Sicheng presses a button on the dashboard. Outside the car, the license plate rotates along its mechanical belt, switching it from a fake plate to Kun’s official plate.

     “Renjun, how long until home?” Yukhei asked, finally out of his stupor.

     “Legally?” Renjun asked. Sicheng nodded.

     “Let’s not _actually_ get caught, hmm?”

 

     When Chenle woke up, he was lying on the mattress in his miniature prison. He sat up, his head still dizzy from the blood loss. His arm is wrapped tightly in a clean bandage, his jacket tied around him in a makeshift sling. There is a small container of a healing salve beside him on the floor, along with a roll of clean bandages. The tin of salve has a note stuck on top.

_I’m sorry, I did the best I could. -H_

 

     Hua came in later that afternoon, bringing news and a meal with her. Chenle ate quietly as she filled him in on the information.

     “Today is Friday,” she began, “it’s been one whole day, and there has been no response.” Chenle does not respond, simply taking another bite of the rice.

     “How is your arm?” she asked gently.

     “Could be better,” he said. She winced.

     “I’m sorry, I only learned to bandage myself, so I’m not sure if I did it right on you.” Her words make Chenle pause.

     “Does she always hit you like that?” he asked quietly.

     “Since the day my father died. I was thirteen,”

     “Is this where you learned to bandage yourself?” Chenle asked. Hua only nodded. They sat in silence until Chenle finished.

     “Let me check your wound,” Hua offered. Chenle stretched out his arm. With deft hands, Hua unravels the white cloth, wincing when the inner layers are stained red. Chenle turned his head away, not wanting to see the true horror. She senses his discomfort, and quickly applies more salve and bandages it back up.

     “Do you have more bandages?” Chenle asked when she’d finished tying the knot. Hua nodded.

     “This is only a small part of my stash of healing ointments and bandages. Don’t worry,” she reassured him. Another silence takes over them as Hua repacked her bag.

     “Do you think your father would actually help you?” she asked tentatively. Chenle laughed, a cold, indifferent laugh.

     “I haven’t seen my father in almost five years. I don’t even think he remembers I exist.”

 

     Jisung headed out, ready to make his weekly trek to the far side of the city. There’s a particular feeling in the air tonight, as if the wind was trying to warn him of something. He pulled his jacket closer to himself and picked up his pace a little. When he stepped onto the road that leads to the warehouse of his parents, he noticed something was off. It had only been a week since he last came, but there’s life inside the building. Lights were on inside. Strange. Strange indeed. He knew he should turn back, walk away from the building, but he can’t. Curiosity killed the cat. Hopefully, Jisung is no cat.

     He decided to take a different route up the building, scaling its fifteen floors easily. As he settled down into his corner, he noticed something strange. From a window, there seemed to be an outcropping that was definitely not there before. Noting the lack of light from that particular window, he crept down to take a look.

 

     Chenle blinked at the window. For a moment, he's unsure whether he's awake or dreaming, because the same copper hair from his dreams was just outside the window. The plastic was slightly blurry, but the color was unmistakable. The boy reached through the bars and slashed the plastic open with his knife.

     “You’re not supposed to be here,” the copper-haired boy said. Chenle was too surprised to respond.

     “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Jisung said. He pressed the flat of his blade against the screws holding the bars in place. The screws must be new, because they were not yet rusted shut. Chenle watched him work, still too surprised to say anything. After he pulled out the last screw, Jisung quietly placed the bars on top of the roof.

     “Well?” Jisung asked, reaching his hand out. Chenle hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. With a firm pull, Jisung pulled Chenle out and on top of the roof with him.

     “You might want to put that jacket on, it’s cold out here,” Jisung said. Chenle moved robotically. Jisung sat down cross-legged, watching the brown-haired boy fiddle with the zipper.

     “Have you ever climbed a building?” Jisung asked. The cute boy shook his head. Jisung sighed. “Well, hi, I’m Jisung.”

     “You’re the infamous Park Jisung?” Chenle asked, still panting a little. Jisung nodded.

     “If that’s a problem, I’ll teach you how to get down, and then we can go our separate ways,” Jisung said. Chenle hurriedly shook his head.

     “No no no! I just thought—wasn’t your hair blonde last time we met?” Chenle asked.

     “Last time we met in the alleyway? No, my hair was coppery then too. Oh, you mean when I was climbing your apartment building, ah, yes.” Jisung said, tucking his knife back into his belt.

     “That was you in the alleyway as well?” Chenle gasped, “wow, I’ve been saved by you twice already, what is this?” Chenle sat down beside him. A sudden feeling of trust bloomed in his heart.

     “My name is Chenle, by the way.” he said at last. Chenle, what a cute name for the adorable boy. Jisung took a deep breath.

     “I guess I’ll teach you how to climb a building, then.”

 

     Kun glanced around at the tense dinner table, its empty chair standing out like a needle in the eye. He looked at each of his brothers.

     “I want to overthrow my father,” he said quietly. Silence.

     “I’m in,” Sicheng said. Kun looked at him.

     “I didn’t even say what I plan to do,” Kun said. Sicheng shook his head.

     “I don’t care what you plan to do. My loyalty is to you, not to your father, not to the family,” Sicheng said, a tone of finality in his voice, “I trust you to make good decisions.”

     “I’m in too,” Yangyang said, “ I trust you, Kun-ge.”

     “Let me explain, and then I’ll let you guys consider, alright?” Kun asked. He knew what he wanted to do was dangerous. Damn it if he paid for it with his life, but Sicheng? Yangyang? They don’t have to.

     “You all know how my father is; he’s corrupt, power-hungry, and unjust. If he continues, he will drive this family to ruin,” Kun said, “I think that I have enough connections and power in the family to win support. I don’t want too many people to die, but I’m also realistic. It is inevitable. Peaceful transfers of power are rare, and many collapse afterwards.

     “I think you all know the risks. Please weigh them carefully before accepting, please please please,” Kun muttered, more to himself than the others.

     “Well, you have the entire computer system in the palm of your hand, Kun-ge,” Hendery said, “because I’m in.”

     “I’ve already broken the law more times than I can count,” Renjun said, shrugging, “and I’m only twenty. I’m already going to hell anyway, might as well sit on the throne.”

     “You’re definitely going to need a fighter,” Yukhei added.

     “I’ll check the supply chains and the money,” Xiaojun volunteered, attempting to raise his arm, but winced instead.

     “We’re all in on this,” Ten said finally, “Ever since we moved away, I decided to follow you, and only you. Not your father, not my own father, but you, Qian Kun, because in our world of larceny and trickery and murder, you are ever positive, still clinging onto the morals that the rest of us have long forgotten.” Kun squeezed his eyes shut.

     “I don’t know what to say,” Kun said, “I was honestly expecting to do this alone.” At this, Sicheng scoffed.

     “I’m hurt, Kun-ge,” Yangyang said, “you really think we’d abandon you like that?” Kun smiled for the first time in a week.

     “What would I do without you guys?” Kun said. A small _ding_ rang from Hendery’s phone. A text from an unknown number.

 

_Chenle is at my place_

_-JH_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHP 6 Sneak Peak: 
> 
> "I am trusting you with my heart and soul,"  
> [...]  
> "I'm sorry, Lele, I really am sorry. I love you, so so much."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is up y'all
> 
> To those that follow my other NCT fic, How to Stan an Idol, I'm super sorry that I can only update one of the two this week. I've got six AP exams to take within the next two weeks, and I'm really stressed. I just finished wrapping up this chapter today, so here it is. I'm not discontinuing any of them by any means, I'm just a stressed out student. 
> 
> Y'ALL DID EVERYONE SEE THE TEASERS FOR WAYV'S DEBUT OMG I'M NT OKAY  
> MY MAN DONG SICHENG LOOKING LIKE A FINE ASS HUNK OMG I'M IN LOVE 
> 
> -Helena

_Chenle is at my place_

_-JH_

 

     “What is it?” Xiaojun asked. Hendery was frozen, still holding his phone. He quickly dialed the number and placed it on speaker.

     “Jaehyun?” Hendery asked tentatively.

     “That’s me,” Jaehyun replied, “listen, uhh, I feel like you know this already, but I’m friends with a certain Park Jisung.”

     “I know,” Hendery said, ignoring the questioning glances from around the table.

     “Well, earlier tonight, Jisung brought home a friend, and I am almost 100% sure he is related to you guys, since his last name is Qian. I mean, at least that’s what he introduced himself as,” Jaehyun sounded slightly unsure.

     “Can I talk to him?” Kun asked. A shuffle from the other end of the line.

     “Kun-ge?” The voice is unmistakably Chenle’s.

     “Chenle, are you alright?” Kun asked.

     “Yeah, I just have a cut on my arm, that’s it,” Chenle said, “is Xiaojun-ge alright?”

     “I’m right here,” Xiaojun spoke up.

     “Are you all okay there?” Chenle asked.

     “Are we alright? Shouldn’t we be asking you that?” Yukhei asked. Chenle laughed.

     “I’m fine! Really, I’m fine,” Chenle said, “can someone pick me up?”

     “I will be there in thirty, is that alright?” Renjun said.

     “Ok! See you then!” Chenle hung up the phone.

     Silence.

     “Should we tell him?” Sicheng asked.

     “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ten said, “it will only involve him into the mess.”

     “I second that notion,” Hendery said, “I trust Jaehyun to take care of Chenle.”

     “That’s a lot of trust in someone you’ve only known for a week,” Sicheng pointed out.

     “I’ve seen his records. He wants to stay out of the business for the rest of his life. He never wants to go back. Jaehyun even has a boyfriend now. If he’s willing to take in Jisung, a boy on the Most Wanted list, I’m sure he can take in Chenle too,” Hendery said.

     “I vote with Ten and Hendery,” Yukhei said, “better Chenle with Jaehyun and safe, rather than with us. I know it’s a tough decision, but it’s for him.” Kun closed his eyes. He almost lost his little brother once already. To let him go, voluntarily, is unimaginable. Kun had never made a harder choice in his life. But the logical part of his mind kicked in, screaming at him to do the right thing, to let Chenle stay with Jaehyun, where he would be safer than with Kun.

     “I want to actually _meet_ this Jaehyun first,” Kun said finally, “ _officially_ meet him.”

 

 

     “I can’t for you to meet my brothers!” Chenle bounced happily on the couch. Jisung watched him with a smile on his face.

     “How many brothers did you say you had?” Jisung asked again.

     “One, but the other seven are my cousins, but they’re practically my brothers,” Chenle squealed back, eyes glued to the television, where Donghyuck was roasting Mark on Smash Bros.

     “Wow, that’s a big family,” Donghyuck said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

     “How do you manage so many kids?” Mark asked, shaking his remote when Donghyuck’s Kirby swallowed his Ness.

     “I don’t know,” Chenle said, “we mainly just take care of ourselves.”

     “Alright, is the question and answer session over? I need to talk to Chenle,” Jaehyun said, waltzing into the room. Jisung looked up. Jaehyun had only raised an eyebrow when he’d showed up in the middle of the night with a friend. That eyebrow when slightly higher when Chenle introduced himself, but Jaehyun made no comment, only inviting Chenle to sit down on the couch where Mark and Donghyuck were playing video games.

     “Chenle, I hate to be the one to tell you this,” Jaehyun said once Chenle had sat down in his and Taeyong’s room

     “Tell me that my family part the mafia?” Chenle asked, “Old news.”

     “Oh, so you know,” Jaehyun said, sitting back in his chair. Chenle nodded.

     “I don’t know any specifics though,”

     “I should not be the one to tell you this stuff, but your family is not ‘part of the mafia’,” Jaehyun took a deep breath, “they _are_ the mafia.”

     “What do you mean?” Chenle asked.

     “Your father is the kingpin,” Jaehyun said tentatively.

     “Oh yeah, she said something like that,” Chenle nodded, recalling.

     “She?” Jaehyun asked.

     “Yeah, I was kidnapped a week ago,” Chenle said. Jaehyun choked on his spit.

     “Kidnapped? What?”

     “Jisung was the one who rescued me,” Chenle said, nodding.

     “Holy fuck,” Jaehyun muttered to himself, “do you know who kidnapped you?”

     “Someone by the name of Jiang?” Chenle said. Jaehyun sat bolt upright, a shiver traveling down his spine..

     “Are you serious?” Jaehyun asked.

     “Yeah, I’m pretty sure, why?” Chenle asked.

     “I need you to tell me as many details as possible,” Jaehyun said. Chenle raised an eyebrow, but started describing everything.

 

     Chenle leapt out of his seat when the doorbell rang. He didn’t care who’s arms it was, crashing into them as soon as the Jaehyun opened the door enough to let him slip past. Kun hugged him back, holding him tightly. They stayed like that for a couple moments, until Chenle moved to hug Renjun, who was bouncing up and down.

     “We need to talk,” Jaehyun said to Kun once Chenle had finished hugging everyone. Kun nodded.

     “Mark, Donghyuck, can you guys take Chenle and Jisung down the street to the ice cream shop?” Jaehyun said, passing a twenty to Mark. Donghyuck bounced up happily, eager to go outside. Mark opened his mouth to protest, but a look from Taeyong shut him up. He frowned, but closed the door after the younger kids anyway.

     “Come, sit, any clean surface is fine,” Jaehyun gestured to around the living room.

     “I need to ask a favor from you,” Kun said, as soon as they had all sat down.

     “Anyway we can help,” Jaehyun said.

     “We’re going to take over,” Kun said.

     “Overthrow your father?” Jaehyun asked.

     “Yes,” Kun said, “I don’t want Chenle involved in this. Anyway possible, keep him safe, please.”

     “Qian Kun doesn’t have a bargain?” Jaehyun asked, raising an eyebrow. Kun sighed.

     “Whatever it takes for Chenle’s safety,” Sicheng spoke up.

     “I mean, I kind of already run a foster care for teenage criminals,” Taeyong shrugged, trying to prod his boyfriend into agreeing.

     “Jisung’s different,” Jaehyun tried to say. Taeyong waved his hand.

     “Nonsense, a former gang member, a teenager on the Most Wanted, a mechanic who does street racing plus his gambler boyfriend, and an heir to the mafia, what’s the difference?” Taeyong said nonchalantly. Xiaojun shrugged.

     “All the same in the eyes of the law, we’re all society’s scum anyway,” Hendery said. Jaehyun looked at Taeyong.

     “Are you sure?” Jaehyun asked quietly. Taeyong nodded.

     “He’ll be safer with us,” Taeyong pointed out. Jaehyun caved.

     “Fine, we’ll take Chenle in for now,” Jaehyun said. Kun breathed a sigh of relief.

     “I am trusting you with my heart and soul,” Kun said.

     “Then it’s a deal,” Jaehyun said, reaching his hand out. Kun shook his hand, his grip was firm, but his hand was warm.

 

     Yangyang’s heart broke a little when Chenle’s big smile fell at the sight of how tense the living room was. He had burst through the door first, with Jisung trailing behind him.

     “Lele, I have to tell you something,” Kun said. Taeyong tacitly got up and shooed Mark, Jisung, and Donghyuck out, Jaehyun following, to give the brothers space.

     “What’s wrong?” Chenle asked, crawling into Sicheng’s lap.

     “I--we’re--going to take over,” Kun said. Chenle looked confused.

     “Kun’s going to take your dad’s place,” Ten translated.

     “But why?” Chenle asked, “isn’t he fine where he is?”

     “Your dad is...not a good guy,” Sicheng said tentatively.

     “Oh,” was all Chenle could say. Chenle didn't know his father's business, all he knew what that he was no more than a DNA donor to him anyway.

     “I don’t care about him,” Chenle said finally, “what about you guys?”

     “We’re going to challenge him,” Yukhei said, petting Chenle’s hair with a big hand. Chenle thought for a moment.

     “So what do I do?”

     “Lele, please stay with Jaehyun,” Kun said. Chenle sat upright.

     “But…”

     “No buts,” Kun said, shaking his head, “Stay with Jaehyun, we’ll come get you when it’s over.” Chenle was close to tears, but deep down, he knew Kun was right. He had finally found a family, and to leave them to fight for their lives? Chenle bit his lip until it bled, sending Renjun shooting up to pull him close.

     “I’m sorry, Lele, I really am sorry. I love you so, so much,” Kun whispered as he hugged Chenle close to him.

     “I’ll drop off some of Chenle’s things tomorrow evening,” Sicheng said to Jaehyun, who nodded, watching the two brothers hug in the doorway.

     “I’ll do my best,” Jaehyun said. They both know that, in this world of liars and thieves and gamblers, promises were meant to be broken. All they could do was to do their best.

 

     Jisung hated that Chenle would not stop shaking. Taeyong had handed them a stack of blankets, which Jisung laid out on the couch and the floor. Jisung glanced up at the couch, where Chenle was curled up in fetal position, quiet sobs racking his small body. Jisung didn’t know what to do, but he stood up anyway and patted Chenle’s shoulder. Chenle seemed to calm down a little.

     “I know it’s hard, but every night has a dawn,” Jisung said, recalling what his mother had said every time he woke up with nightmares. Chenle shifted, uncurling himself a little to look up at Jisung.

     “Come on, I’ll give you hugs,” Jisung said, opening his arms. Chenle hesitated for a moment, before sitting up and burying his face in Jisung’s chest. Jisung felt his heart flutter at the contact, before scolding himself. _He’s in pain right now, no time for my little crush on him._ He put his arms around Chenle, letting the boy cry into his shirt.

     Jisung must have stood there for a long time, because the next thing he knew, Chenle had cried himself to sleep. Jisung gently laid him back onto the couch, pulling up the blanket and tucking him in. He stared at him, noting the soft features and the chocolate brown hair. With a sigh, Jisung laid back down on the floor.

 

     The first morning was awkward, to say the least. Chenle barely ate, sending Taeyong into a frenzy. Jisung sat beside him on the couch all day, letting Chenle cry it all out on his shoulder. Jisung sat with him until the early afternoon, when he left to scour the city. Chenle felt empty without him.

     “If it makes you feel better,” Jaehyun said, “I will give you every update I have on them.” Chenle only nodded.

     “They’re very capable,” Jaehyun tried again, “they will be alright.” Chenle nodded again.

     “You should go out with Jisung tonight, take your mind off of things,” Jaehyun said finally. Chenle looked up.

 

     "Hey, so Sicheng dropped a bag for Chenle?” Taeyong asked quizzically once Jisung returned. Jisung perked up, heading over to the duffle bag that sat on the couch. Chenle was nowhere to be seen.

     “He’s in the shower,” Taeyong supplied. Once Chenle came out of the shower, they sorted through all the things in the bag. Clothes, mostly, a set of toiletries, a bundle of cash.

  
  


     “Put your hand up there, yes! Ok, now hold the ledge tight,” Jisung instructed, “left foot up, good job!”

     “How far up am I? Thirteen feet?” Chenle wheezed. Jisung estimated roughly how far Chenle had managed to scale an abandoned building.

     “Uhh, about six?” Jisung said. Chenle screeched.

     “But I’ve been climbing for forever!”

     “It’s ok! I mean, it’s your first time, so there’s no rush, ok?” Jisung reassured quickly.

     “I can’t hold on much longer, can I come down?” Chenle asked.

 

     The burn in his arms the next morning was the best thing, Chenle decided. The sore muscles took the pain away from his tired heart. So he insisted that Jisung run with him each night to the far end of the city to climb. The first few days were hard. He wasn’t out of shape, per se, but he was a city kid nonetheless. He had roughly a quarter of the stamina that Jisung had, and they stopped frequently so he could catch his breath. Jisung never judged; he seemed to understand, and thus never commented on it. Chenle’s arms were sore and his legs ached, but he pushed through, intent on distracting himself. The fifth day they were out, Chenle had finally successfully climbed to the roof of the two story house. Jisung joined him atop the roof, watching the moon high above them.

     “What’s your story?” Chenle asked suddenly. Jisung stretched out his legs and laid back, his hands behind his head.

     “Why this question, all of a sudden?” Jisung asked casually. Chenle shrugged, laying down on the roof as well.

     “Everyone knows everything about me, and I know none of you,” Chenle said simply.

     “Well, I was born here in Seoul,” Jisung started, “I grew up on the other side of the city. My parents were factory workers. We were poor, but they loved each other and they loved me.” A pause. Chenle hadn’t spoken, and Jisung had never told his family history to anyone except Taeyong. But something felt right, telling Chenle. If anyone understood a messed up family, it was Chenle.

     “When I was younger, I loved to dance, and my mom and dad put every last penny forward so I could attend the local studio. They supported me through everything, and I practiced hard, just so I could show them how much I valued their efforts,” Jisung said, “But one night, when I was nine years old, no one came to pick me up after dance. I walked home alone that night, confused and scared, but I had just thought that work was hard that day. So I went to bed that night, thinking that my parents were going to be home late and forgot to tell me. The next morning, the landlady knocked on my door and told me that my parents were dead, that a warehouse fire had killed them. I was too young to know what it meant, but I did know I was never going to see them again. The next thing I knew, I was being shipped to an orphanage.” Jisung took a deep breath.

     “You don’t have to continue,” Chenle said softly. Jisung shook his head.

     “I’ve never told anyone except Taeyong this,” Jisung said, “besides, I think you deserve to know. I survived four and a half years in the abusive orphanage, before I ran away. I heard later that someone had burned that down, too.”

     “Wow,” Chenle whispered.

     “Yeah, I meet Taeyong about four months later, and I’ve been a thief since,” Jisung said. A comfortable silence settles over them. Jisung feels as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

     “You’re so independent,” Chenle marveled, “I could never.”

     “You’re doing it right now,” Jisung noted, “and you’ve got a family burden that I didn’t have.” Chenle intertwined their fingers suddenly, and Jisung’s heart thumped.

     “You’re my family too, Jisungie,” Chenle said.

     “You, too,” Jisung whispered.

 

     Jaehyun had always known that safety is forever temporary. He figured that he’d lived in the garage with Taeyong comfortably for too long. Something was bound to happen soon. Mark and Donghyuck knew the drill. Jisung had refused the safehouses, instead claiming that he’d lived on the streets for months as a fourteen-year old, he could do it again for longer at seventeen. But Chenle didn’t. Jaehyun hadn’t even had an opportunity to debrief him when it hit.

     Chenle startled awake on the seventh night he’d been here. There was a flash of light outside that did not feel right. He laid there on the couch, not daring to move. He didn’t wake Jisung yet, just in case he had seen it wrong. There. It came again. Chenle prodded Jisung’s arm.

     “Sungie,” Chenle whispered urgently, “someone’s outside.” Jisung blinked up at him for a moment before the words settled in. Jisung put a finger to his lips, tacitly telling Chenle to be quiet.

     “Change into your clothes, comfortable clothes,” Jisung whispered. Chenle nodded, following Jisung in pulling on some sweatpants. Slowly, Jisung stood up and walked over to Jaehyun and Taeyong’s room, knocking on the door.

     “Someone’s here,” Jisung whispered. Shuffling. He moves down the hall to Mark and Donghyuck’s and repeated his process. From the closet in the hallway, Jisung pulled out a backpack labeled “Jisung” and a newer one labeled “Chenle”.

     “Let’s go,” Jisung said, taking Chenle’s hand gently. Pulling on their sneakers, Jisung led Chenle down the basement and into a small, underground passageway.

     “We’re just going to leave them there?” Chenle asked, crawling after Jisung.

     “This is the drill,” Jisung said, “If we go back, we’ll all lose.”

     “But we can’t just leave them!” Chenle whispered back urgently.

     “Mark and Donghyuck know what to do, and so do Jaehyun and Taeyong,” Jisung said, handing Chenle’s backpack to him. Chenle stared at him in disbelief.

     “You guys were all ready,” Chenle said, “you guys knew this might happen. How else would you know to grab a pre-packed bag of your things? And mine too?”

     “Better safe than sorry,” Jisung said, “I can guarantee that your brothers had one each in the apartment, too.”

     “What?” Chenle asked in disbelief. Jisung shrugged.

     “It’s pretty common, to have a bag packed in case of emergencies,” Jisung said, “how do you think Sicheng knew to give us yours?”

     “My brother gave you this bag?” Chenle asked. Jisung nodded. They were reaching the end of the tunnel.

     “Shh, just follow me, and follow close, ok?” Jisung said, pushing on the metal plate gently. It lifted up, so Jisung gently slid it to one side. He pulled himself up first, before giving a hand to Chenle.

     “Where are we?” Chenle asked, glancing around the room full of shelves.

     “This was Taeyong’s old apartment, before he met Jaehyun,” Jisung said, igniting a small candle beside one of the shelves with matches adjacent to it. The flame was surprisingly strong on such a small candle, the light casting shadows that danced on the walls.

     “They lived across the street from each other?” Chenle asked.

     “They had agreed to keep the apartment under Taeyong’s name, dig the tunnel, and store backup supplies in the apartment.

     “This is such a small space,” Chenle noted. There were no rooms, just a single room that had a small kitchen in one corner and a separate door to the side that was a bathroom.

     Jisung held the candle and walked around, pulling things off of the shelves. Chenle followed him like a lost puppy, not knowing what to do.

     “Do you want beans or corn?” Jisung asked. Chenle looked at him quizzically.

     “What?”

     “Beans or corn? Personally, I like corn, but I’m here with you, so you can pick,” Jisung said, gesturing to the cans of food on the shelf.

     “Corn is fine,” Chenle said. Jisung handed one to him, and Chenle put it in his bag.

     “We should each grab our own supply, so if we get separated, we still have food and clothes,” Jisung said, passing Chenle a water bottle. Chenle nodded, not knowing what to say. When they were done, Jisung placed the candle in a small, blue lantern and placed it on the windowsill facing the street. They walked out of the apartment and into the hallway, where Jisung pushed open a door to the stairs.

     “Okay, let’s go up,” Jisung said, taking Chenle up the staircase to the roof.

     “The roofs are the best way to travel at night,” Jisung said, answering the puzzled expression on Chenle’s face. When they made it all the way to the top, Chenle sat down on the roof to catch his breath. He peered over the ledge to look down at the garage when it happened.

 

_Boom._

 

     The explosion shook the ground, immediately leveling the small, two story garage that doubled as a home. The flames erupted, a neon orange, sending black smoke into the sky. Chenle sat there, frozen, watching the fire consume the building.

     “Chenle, Chenle,” Jisung pulled at his arm, “we need to go!”

     “Did-- did you see…?” Chenle said, standing up and running after Jisung.

     “Yes, I did,” Jisung said, leaping over to the next roof, Chenle followed, his blood coursing with adrenaline.

     “Do you think they’re okay?” Chenle asked once his feet hit the ground. Jisung nodded.

     “Mark and Donghyuck are fine, I saw their candle light up,” Jisung said. While Chenle was looking down at the explosion, Jisung’s eyes flitted to the adjacent buildings, searching for the two other blue lanterns. He only saw Mark and Donghyuck’s, hoping that the explosion was too bright to make out Jaehyun and Taeyong’s.

     “What about Jaehyun? Taeyong?” Chenle gasped. Jisung glanced back at the smoke, deciding that they had put enough distance between themselves and the fire, and slowed his pace.

     “I--I don’t know,” Jisung said. Chenle stopped.

     “How did you know Mark and Donghyuck were okay?”

     “We had a system,” Jisung explained, “a blue lantern, like the one I put in the window of Taeyong’s old apartment. The candles and the lanterns were deliberate, so that we would know if each other was okay. Mark and Donghyuck’s was lit, and I could see it in the window of Donghyuck’s friend’s apartment down the street, but I couldn’t find Taeyong’s.”

     “Will we know if they’re alright?” Chenle asked.

     “We’ll find out tomorrow morning, when the police come and look for bodies,” Jisung said quietly. Chenle felt the tears threatening to break through. Jisung opened his arms and Chenle ran into them, Jisung pulling him close.

     "But the explosion was so big," Chenle muttered. 

     "Taeyong joked often that a single spark would ignite the house, because of the gasoline and oil in the air," Jisung said. 

     "Do you think they targeted us?" Chenle asked. 

     "I have no doubts," Jisung said, "there were a lot of undesirable people in that house." 

     "But why?" Chenle asked. Jisung had no answer. 

     “It’ll be alright,” Jisung said, their heights perfectly allowing Jisung to put his chin on Chenle’s head.

     “But Taeyong, Jaehyun,” Chenle choked out. Jisung stroked his hair.

     “That’s life,” Jisung said, not knowing how to comfort someone who didn’t brush with death every day. He held Chenle there, until Chenle cried himself out.

     “Let’s sleep,” Jisung said. Chenle nodded silently and copied Jisung, who stretched himself out on the rooftop and put his backpack under his head as a pillow.

     Jisung work up at the crack of dawn, having only slept four hours. He didn’t want to wake Chenle, so he left his backpack there and headed back towards the garage. The police should have finished their initial investigation, Jisung guesses. He runs back, anxious to see if Taeyong and Jaehyun made it out. He sits down where Chenle sat last night, and glances down. There are four police cars, lights blazing, and no ambulances. Jisung glances around what used to be the front of the garage. No body bags, unless they were taken away already. From the eighth floor, Jisung couldn’t make out any of the words being spoken. He waited a bit longer. There, the police was dragging a bag out of the apartment. Jisung’s heart sank, before realizing something. The tuft of hair that stuck out at the top of the bag was blonde. No one in their house was blonde. Donghyuck was sporting silver hair, Taeyong red, Jaehyun and Mark had darker hair, and he himself was coppery-red. No one had blonde hair. So why was there a blonde-haired body? Jisung continued to wait. When no more bags came out of the blackened rubble, Jisung headed back.

     “Where were you?” Chenle asked, taking a sip from his water bottle as Jisung lept over the last pipe on the roof.

     “Counting the bodies,” Jisung said. Chenle stopped.

     “No one had blonde hair, right?” Jisung asked. Chenle shook his head.

     “I don’t think so. Mark has black hair, Donghyuck has silver,” Chenle counted off, “Taeyong is red, and Jaehyun is brown. No one had blonde hair. Jisung had never been more puzzled in his life.

     “Speaking of hair,” Jisung said, “I need to change back to black. Have to blend in.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chp 7: 
> 
> "Silver ring?" Chenle asked. Jisung shrugged.  
> "It wasn't found on her body," Jisung said. Chenle shook his head.  
> "No, that's not what I meant," Chenle said, "I feel like I've seen that ring somewhere."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeeeee  
> not edited, ofc. Will edit later, after my SAT on Saturday.  
> <3 y'all
> 
> -Helena

     He and Jaehyun had barely made it out of the blaze. But the other boy hadn’t made it. A quick glance back told Taeyong that Mark and Donghyuck, along with Jisung and Chenle, were all out safe, blue lanterns flickering. He had tried to stop and turn back to help the blonde-haired boy, but Jaehyun pulled him back. There had been no time to light their lantern.

     “He was the one that set the fire,” Jaehyun whispered urgently, pulling Taeyong by the arm. Taeyong’s footsteps stuttered, before allowing himself to be tugged down the alleyway by Jaehyun.

     “How do you know that?” Taeyong asked.

     “His name is Tsan Lie,” Jaehyun said, leading Taeyong farther and farther away, “he was a trainee arsonist of the Jopok.” Silence. Jaehyun glances back quickly. Nothing. He glances at the rooftops. Three people follow them from above. Jaehyun makes a split-second decision.

     “When we go through the subway,” Jaehyun said, “I need you to take a train, go anywhere, and never come back.”

     “Jaehyun!” Taeyong was shocked. Leave him behind? Jaehyun didn’t reply, continuing to make a beeline for the subway station. Taeyong followed him, his mind racing.

     Jaehyun pulled Taeyong down the stairs, pulling a crumpled dollar bill from his pocket.

     “One ticket to Busan, please,” Jaehyun gasped out..

     “Will that be one way or round trip?” the woman behind the counter asked.

     “One way,” Jaehyun replied. Taeyong stood there, frozen in shock.

     “Taeyong,” Jaehyun said, once she had given him his ticket, “I need you to take the train to Busan, I’ll meet you there, alright?”

     “Jaehyun, I--” Taeyong started to say. Jaehyun took his hands and slipped the ticket in his palm. He pulled the jacket from around his shoulders and draped Taeyong in it.

     “Remember the day we met?” Jaehyun asked, “remember how I told you over and over again to stay away from me? Remember how you refused? And remember the day I told you the truth, I made you promise to do one thing and one thing for me only. What was it?” Tears sprung to Taeyong’s eyes.

     “That in a life-threatening situation,” Taeyong choked out, “I would do anything to save myself, and only to save myself.” Jaehyun nodded, squeezing his hands.

     “I love you, Yongie, I really love you,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling his smaller boyfriend into a hug. He gave him a delicate kiss on the top of his soft, red hair.

     “I’ll find you, by any means necessary,” Jaehyun promised. _Even in this world of crimes, I will promise you that I will find you, or I will die trying._

 

* * *

 

     Hendery scanned the document quickly, before determining that it was useless. He was about to open the next one, when a folder caught his eye. _QCL._ He opened the folder, greeted by pictures of a young Chenle. At the end, the earliest dated document, was written before Chenle was even born, almost eighteen years ago. Curious, Hendery clicks it. Only one line of text is in the file. A single line that makes Hendery’s heart stop.

     Hendery is too distracted to notice the movement on the other side of the door. The door is burst open, and he jumps, realizing belatedly that he is out in the open, and not a single weapon in his hand.

“Put your hands where I can see them,” a gruff voice commands. Hendery freezes. Slowly, he raises his arms in surrender.

 

\--

     Ten had never run faster before. His lungs burned with smoke and his legs ached, but his mind was as sharp as ever. A body in the corner, a quick glance tells him it’s not Hendery. Ten’s chest tightens at the thought, but he pushed it down. _Now is not the time_ , he tells himself. A glint of silver catches his eye from the left. Instinct is the only thing that saved Ten’s life. He ducked out of the way, noting the way the knife was thrown and the angle from which it came from. Ten picked up the knife and threw it back, hearing a scream as the knife found its mark.

 

\--

     Renjun yanked hard on the crowbar, the screws holding the metal plate in place popping off. Squinting in the dark, he glanced at the four wires. Red, green, yellow, blue. Two of these will do nothing, one will deactivate the bomb, and one will detonate it. His fingers run over the metal on the other side, tracing the wires to their endpoints. After a while, he reached down for his pliers, carefully snipping the two that he deemed red herrings. There was no way to tell which wire was which, from here. The yellow or the green? The colors flash behind his eyelids. A sudden memory surfaced; a young Chenle with a head of freshly-dyed green hair. Renjun took a deep breath, and cut the yellow one.

     The explosion is unmistakable, shattering the glass and popping his eardrums. Yangyang’s heart leaps to his throat. His eyes start to water from the smoke, his hands bloody from the glass. Wincing, he pulls a piece of glass out of his palm. Yangyang grabbed his bag and raced down the stairs, straight towards the explosion.

     He fights the tide of people running away from it, pushing and shoving, not caring about who he collided with. His hands clench the straps of his backpack tighter. Yangyang’s shoes crunch in the burnt dirt, the charred grass. Small fires are still burning, scattered throughout.

     “Renjun?” Yangyang yelled out. Crackling of the fires.

     “Renjun!” Yangyang screamed. He ran towards the rubble of what used to be his uncle’s house.

     “Renjun!” he yelled out again, panic rising in his chest.

     “Renjun!” His voice cracked, sending him into a coughing fit from the smoke.

     Someone is calling him, but they’re too far away. The ringing in his ears won’t stop. The ground is hot, something is digging into his back. His head hurts, but his legs hurt more. Renjun just has enough energy to press his SOS button at his hip, before the darkness consumes him.

     Yangyang’s pocket buzzes. He pulls out the small device. The green button under “HRJ” has turned an angry, blinking red light. He shoves the device back in his pocket. If Renjun could push his button, he must be alive. Somewhere. Yangyang circled the explosion, searching through the rubble for any signs of his cousin.

 

\--

     The headquarters looked as Sicheng remembered, a few years ago. In a sense, everything was the same. He was walking with Kun again to the same room, the same sense of anticipation in his chest. But everything was different at the same time. The air smelled stale, and the marble floors didn’t shine like they used to. Kun and Sicheng approached the same set of mahogany doors stood before them. They didn’t seem as intimidating as Sicheng remembered, back when he was nineteen. Kun didn’t bother to knock as he kicked the door, the brass lock snapping out of place.

 

     “Hello son, how are you?” the man behind the desk asked. Two bodyguards flanked him, their hands on their guns.

     “I’m doing well, could do better,” Kun said curtly, taking the same seat he did four years ago, directly across from his father’s. Sicheng took the same spot he did all those years ago, behind Kun on his right side.

     “Something to drink?” the kingpin asked.

     “The first lesson I was taught was to never accept drinks from my enemy,” Kun said. Mr. Qian only raises an eyebrow.

     “Oh? Since when did we stand on opposite sides of the river, my son?” Mr. Qian asked.

     “We’ve always stood on opposite banks,” Kun said, sitting back in the hard wooden chair.

     “My son, that is simply not true,” Mr. Qian said, a faint smile playing at his lips.

     “And what makes you think that, _Father?_ ” Kun asked. Sicheng winced at the amount of anger in that one word.

     “Well, for one, I raised you,” Mr. Qian said, completely relaxed. Sicheng feels Kun tense, so he puts his hand on his shoulder. _Calm down._

     “Hard to say, really,” Kun replied, picking at his fingernails, not bothering to look at his father, “did you know you had two sons?”

     “Did you know that Chenle isn’t my son?” his father asked. Kun froze. Sicheng’s unwavering hand on his shoulder kept him grounded. He tried not to let his shock show, but his father saw anyway.

     “You didn’t know?” His father asked, “Kun, you forget that I was your first teacher. I know you better than you know yourself.”

     “What do you mean, Chenle isn’t your son?” Kun asked, voice barely above a whisper.

     “Your mother is a little whore,” his father spat. Anger boiled in Kun’s chest.

     “Then who’s son is he?” Kun asked.

     “Well, isn’t that the million dollar question?” Mr. Qian said. His father smiled, a cold, calculating look, sending shivers down Sicheng’s back. He could never understand how Kun and Chenle grew up with a man like this.

     “Is that why?” Kun asked quietly, “is that why you killed my mother?”

     “Son, I’ll teach you another lesson,” his father said, smirking, “never trust anyone enough to turn your back to them.”

     “Thank you for the last lesson,” Kun said, “I’ll take it to heart.”

     “Last lesson?” his father asked, “ my son, there’s many more to come.”

     “Are you blind, deaf, or just plain stupid?” Kun asked, “haven’t you heard of the rebellions and uprisings? Haven’t you connected the dots as to why I’m here today?” Absolute silence. The grandfather clock in the corner is ticking away. _One, two, three,_ Sicheng counts.

     “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Qian whispered. Kun rolled his eyes at his father.

     “Wow, you’re really getting old. Didn’t hear me the first time?” Kun said, venom dripping in his voice. Sicheng’s hand on his shoulder tightened, a silent reminder to stay calm in the face of the man he hated with his entire being.

     “You’ll never win,” his father said. Kun laughed, a cold, cackling howl.

     “Then you don’t know me,” Kun said, standing up from the chair.

     “Son,” his father tried to begin. Kun whirled around, gun pointed. His father’s bodyguards shift automatically.

     “Don’t pull that bullshit on me, old man, I’m no son of yours,” Kun said. He spun around and walked out, head held high. Sicheng followed him, and neither of them looked back.

 

 

* * *

 

     When Jisung trips for the fifth time that day, Chenle knows something is wrong. In all the days he’s known him, Chenle has never seen Jisung trip. Jisung had always been sure footed, his moves efficient.

     “Are you alright?” Chenle asked. Jisung nodded.

     “My head just hurts a little. Must be the blast.”

     “Are you sure?”

     “Yeah, we should keep moving,” Jisung said. Just as he said that, his left leg gives out underneath him. Chenle rushes forward to catch him.

     “Alright, guess I’m not okay,” Jisung muttered to himself.

     “You still have the energy to crack a joke,” Chenle sighed, letting Jisung sit down on the rooftop.

     “I don’t know why, my leg just doesn’t want to function today,” Jisung groaned, stretching his legs.

     “Too much walking?” Chenle asked, knowing that it was unlikely. Chenle wasn’t even tired yet, and Jisung had much more stamina than he did.

     “It shouldn’t be,” Jisung said.

     “Do you want to stop for today?” Chenle asked. The sun was already close to the horizon. Jisung nodded, laying down on his backpack.

     “You want a bag of chips that I snagged from the supermarket when we left?” Chenle asked. Jisung smiled at that.

     “You’re already learning the tricks of the trade, my young one,” Jisung said.

     “Hey, I’m the older one here,” Chenle said, but fed a chip to him nonetheless.

     “Tell me about your mother,” Jisung said, chewing on his chip. Chenle took a deep breath.  

     “My mother was about six and a half years younger than my father,” Chenle begins, “They probably never loved each other, but I’d like to think they did. My mother was an investor’s daughter, and my father was only the second son, but he had ambition, and I guess my grandfather saw that. But he died before he could give his blessings, so my father never married my mother.” Chenle paused.

     “So you’re illegitimate?” Jisung asked, “me too. My parents didn’t have the money to go through the whole marriage license process, but they thought that love was enough.”

     “You’re parents are wonderful people,” Chenle said dreamily. Jisung took his hand gently, rubbing small circles on the back of his smaller hand.

     “Keep going,” Jisung said quietly. Chenle laid down next to Jisung.

     “My mother died when I was six,” Chenle said. Jisung said nothing. They were in the same boat, after all; they both know that condolences are nothing compared to the void left behind.

     “She was killed by a bullet, aimed right between her eyebrows,” Chenle continued, “my father cracked after that. He was never violent in the house, always wanting to keep his business and his home life separate. But it grew worse, to the point when my brother, Kun, kicked him out of the house.” Memories of the argument are fighting their way up to the surface, but the larger hand on his is comforting and stabilizes him.

     “I’m going to start making some assumptions, because this is where fact and fiction start to blur for me,” Chenle said. Jisung’s hand was warm.

     “When Grandpa Huang died, he left the leadership position to his illegitimate son, the one who didn’t even take his last name. He left it to my father. They were both cruel, cold, and calculating, and I guess my grandpa really saw something in the scumbag of a father I’ve got,” Chenle said, shrugging, “Uncle Huang didn’t care, to be frank, but the mafia did. Rebellions, coups, anything and everything. I guess Grandpa Huang foresaw this, so in his will, he sent us all away. To Korea. Kun was twenty years old then, fresh out of medical school, having been accepted and graduating early. I didn’t understand then, but I understand now, why he was so adamant about not bringing guards and members with us. Kun wanted us to have a chance at life.” Chenle couldn’t stop the small tear that made its way down his cheek. Jisung squeezed his hand.

     “So that’s why I’m here,” Chenle said with a final breath. His life seems so insignificant when summarized like this. He supposed it’ll get a lot more interesting after this. It takes him a long time to realize that Jisung hasn’t responded. He glances over, noting Jisung’s sleeping figure. Despite the sun just starting to set, Jisung seems tired enough to sleep now. Chenle reaches over and brushes a lock of freshly-dyed black hair out of Jisung’s face.

 

     Chenle woke up with a start, the raindrops already falling consistently. He scrambled up, shaking Jisung’s arm.

     “Jisung, Jisung, it’s raining, wake up,” Chenle said, grabbing his backpack. Jisung only groaned.

     “Come on!” Chenle screeched, as the rain began to fall harder. Jisung finally sat up and blinked his eyes open.

     “Shit,” Jisung muttered to himself. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and stood up.

     “Where do we go?”

     “Let’s duck into the casino, it’s not far from here,” Jisung said. Chenle nodded, pulling Jisung to his feet.

     “Are you alright?” Chenle asked as they picked up the pace, hopping down from the wall. Jisung nodded.

     “My head just feels fuzzy,” Jisung said. Chenle reaches up to feel his forehead.

     “Jisung, you’re burning up,” Chenle said.

     “Let’s find shelter first,” Jisung said, taking Chenle’s hand.

 

     There were no guards at the door, so Chenle and Jisung slip in. Immediately, Chenle goes to the front desk to ask for a room. The woman behind the counter doesn’t even bother to ask why two minors are in a casino, seemingly bored with her job. Chenle swipes the room key to room 614 and pushes open the door.

     “You should take a hot shower first,” Chenle said, putting their bags down on the bed. Jisung nodded, dragging himself to the bathroom while Chenle roams the room. When he’s made it to the countertop’s pamphlet, the shower has already been running. Chenle picks up the piece of paper and gives it a quick read.

 

_Guests who wish to stay longer than two days in the Miroh Casino must participate in the activities provided on floors 1-4._

 

     So Chenle makes a split second decision.

 

     “Absolutely not,” Jisung said, trying to sit up. Chenle pushes his shoulder back down into the pillows.

     “What do you mean, absolutely not?” Chenle asked, “you’re sick, and we finally get to sleep in a real bed. I have some money I can use to play, so that we can stay here longer.”

     “What if you lose it all?” Jisung whispered.

     “Then I’ll steal,” Chenle replied. Jisung shook his head.

     “That’s not a solution,”

     “It is for now,”

     “Chenle--,”

     “Take a nap, Jisungie,” Chenle said. Jisung had no fight left in his body to argue. As soon as Chenle turned off the light, he fell asleep.

 

     Chenle looked down at his clothes. A plain white T-shirt and jeans. At least he showered and washed all of their old clothes, which were hanging up in their bathroom at the moment. He had taken the last two hundred dollars Sicheng had given him down the elevator, walked down the street and bought himself a face mask. He examined the slot machines first, determined they were rigged, and moved on. He wandered around the tables, observing the games at hand. Poker was interesting, he decided. _I should play a round,_ Chenle realized. He takes a deep breath, the money in his pocket suddenly heavy. He slipped on his face mask, scared of being recognized, and entered his name into the queue.

_QCL_

 

     Chenle glanced at the queue, wondering if he was losing his mind. He wasn’t bad at playing poker, but he only had about one hundred dollars worth of chips in his pocket. Who would want to play the newbie with no money?

 

     His knees shook under the table, but he forced his hands to be still. The croupier shuffles the cards robotically, dealing them in successive order. Chenle doesn’t bet big his first round, placing only fifty dollars worth of chips upon the table. A scoff from the woman to his right.

     “Is that all you’ve got, boy?” she asked. Chenle shrugged, choosing not the answer. He ignored the jabs from the onlookers, instead choosing to focus on the cards in front of him. His brain flashes back to the nightly poker games he played with his brothers, where they bet with chocolate and pennies. A sudden calmness overtakes him, Kun’s smile somewhere in his subconscious.     

     Chenle’s first hand isn’t bad; a two, a six, a pair of nines, and one king.

     “ _Never assume anything. Use your head,_ ” Ten’s voice comes back to him as the woman on his right played her first card.

     “ _The higher you climb, the harder you fall,_ ” Hendery had said. Choosing not to take chances, Chenle places the six of hearts down.

     “Raise,” the man across from his says, “Seventy-five.”

     “Call,” the woman on his right said. Chenle mentally tallied his money.

     “Call,” he said.

     “Fold,” the last man said. He put down his cards, not wanting to wager more. Chenle shrugged.  Less money, sure, but also no risk. He reaches across the table to switch out his two. Another six. He has two pairs in his hand.

     His first game ended with a win, immediately putting him on the radar. The chips are heavy in his pocket as he goes to the counter to exchange half of the three hundred. He had bet small his first round, but the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

     “Jisung?” Chenle asked the dark room. A mumble from the bed as Chenle flicked on the lights.

     “Where’d you go?” Jisung murmured. Chenle pushed the hair out of Jisung’s forehead.

     “Made some money,” Chenle said. Jisung opened his eyes.

     “Really?”

     “Did you think I would lose?”

     “I mean, well, yeah,”

     “Wow,”

     “Go back to sleep, Jisungie, I’ll go buy some food,” Chenle said, handing him a bottle of water he had bought downstairs. Jisung gratefully gulped it down, before flopping back down onto the pillows.

     “Are you going to sleep? It’s late,” Jisung pointed out, already feeling the fever pulling back down into sleep.

     “I’m going to buy you medication,” Chenle said, grabbing his jacket. Jisung sticks his arm out, tacitly asking for a hug. Chenle hides a grin, before walking towards him and burying his face into the pillow besides Jisung’s head.

     “You’re so cute,” Chenle murmured. Jisung’s heart fluttered involuntarily.

     “Stay safe, alright?” Jisung asked in a small voice. Chenle pulled back and nodded.

     “Ibuprofen or acetaminophen?” Chenle asked himself as he wandered the supermarket aisles. He glanced at the bottles again. Determining that there was no difference, Chenle grabbed the ibuprofen and some food, paid, and ran back into the night.

 

     “Sungie?” Chenle whispered. Jisung stirred on the bed.

     “You’re back? That was quick,” Jisung murmured. Chenle glanced at the clock.

     “I was gone for two and a half hours,” Chenle noted. Jisung frowned.

     “I was asleep,”

     “Of course, I got you medication,” Chenle said, plopping down beside Jisung on the bed.

     “Thanks,” Jisung accepted a pill and picked up the water bottle. A comfortable silence settled over them as Jisung drank water.

     “I don’t want to sleep anymore, let’s do something,” Jisung said.

     “Let me shower, then we can talk,” Chenle said, shrugging off his jacket.

 

     “Tell me more about your mother,” Chenle said, snuggling into Jisung’s side. His cold body welcomed Jisung’s feverish heat.

     “Well, I don’t remember much about her,” Jisung whispered.

     “Tell me anything you do remember,” Chenle said. It was nice to hear about a loving, caring family, so different than his own.

     “She had long hair,” Jisung said, “I remember because she loved to dye it different colors. Her favorite was a pastel pink. My father loved it when she changed the color. Despite what little money we had, he supported her love for dyes.”

     “Is that why you like to dye your hair?” Chenle asked, voice muffled.

     “Yeah,” Jisung said, “I climb buildings for my father. He used to take me up to the roof through the stairs of our old building. We sat for hours on rooftops, looking down at the people passing by.”

     “You remember so much,” Chenle murmured.

     “I also remember my mother’s wedding ring. My father had scraped a whole month of money just for a tiny silver band for her. He engraved his and her names on the side of it by himself. She never took it off,” Jisung said, “they never found the ring.”

     “Silver ring?” Chenle perked up. Jisung shrugged.

     "It wasn't found on her body," Jisung said. Chenle shook his head.

     "No, that's not what I meant," Chenle said, "I feel like I've seen that ring somewhere."

 

* * *

 

     Taeyong sits there on the train, his heart beating to the sound of the railroad. He supposes that the scenery is beautiful, but he cannot see. The reddish-orange sunset only remind him of the blaze; the blaze that sent everything into motion. Deep down inside, he should have known that this day was coming. Taeyong zips up Jaehyun’s jacket, nuzzling gently in Jaehyun’s lingering cologne. He shoves his hands into the deep pockets, hoping to find warmth and reassurance. Instead, his fingers hit upon a small, hard object. Curious, he pulls it out. Tied with a silvery thread is a little slip of paper.

 

_You are mine, and I am yours._

_Forever._

 

     Taeyong stares in disbelief at the note. Jaehyun’s neat handwriting stares back at him. He carefully tucks the note into the jacket’s breast pocket, holding it close to his heart. He slips the golden ring onto his finger. A perfect fit. He hadn’t even had the chance to say “I love you” back to Jaehyun, nor did he have the chance to tell him goodbye. A sob rises in his throat, echoing slightly in the empty carriage of the train as it takes him farther and farther away from the love of his life.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong's ring is not Jisung's mother's ring  
> lol i realized that afterwards, but both rings are significant at some point. 
> 
> Chp 8:
> 
> Chenle nonchalantly tossed his cards to the middle of the table.  
> "Straight Flush," he said. Gasps and whispers around the table. Jisung stared at him from across the table, mouth open in disbelief.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SCREAMING  
> NOBODY FCKING TOLD ME THAT IN THE FIRST CHAPTER, KUN WAS IN THE TOP BUNK AND THEN MAGICALLY HE WENT TO THE BOTTOM BUNK  
> GUYS WHY  
> I'm so embarrassed now omg  
> I've fixed it now, hehehe  
> \--  
> short chapter, but I've got finals next week. I wrote this chapter last week, so i was like, might as well post it now, eh?  
> \--  
> I also know absolutely nothing about casinos and poker  
> catch me googling stuff as i write lmaoo  
> OK BUT IMAGINE A RICH CHENLE GETTING RICHER OMG POKER GOD CHENLE 
> 
> -Hel

_Three days._

_They had all agreed._

_If, by the end of three days, they did not win their battle,_

_“We end it,” Sicheng said, raising his glass. Seven other wine glasses joined his._

_“All or nothing,” Kun agreed._

 

_The systems were already under Hendery’s control. He had been monitoring it since they’d arrived back in China. Yukhei, Yangyang, and Ten had already scouted the areas. Renjun had planned the routes. Xiaojun, Sicheng, and Kun had drafted the plan. Everything was ready. Three days. A safehouse was agreed upon. At the end of three days, they would make their way back. At the end of the fourth, if someone was missing, they were to be assumed dead._

  
\-- 

 

     Hendery had no idea how much time had passed since he’s been in the back of the van. His hands were tied behind him, his eyes blindfolded. His hands search for the SOS button at his hip, only to find that it was missing. A tear rolled out of his eye. Without the button, there was no way Ten was going to find him. Maybe Ten and Kun and Sicheng and the others would never know what happened to him. He supposed this was better than knowing. Ignorance is bliss.

     The car stops. He is unceremoniously dropped onto the cement. Someone grabbed his arm, pulling him forward. Next thing he knows, he’s being shoved into a chair, his hands tied down to the chair. The blindfold comes off, the sudden bright lights making him squint. When his eyes finally manage to adjust, they land on the person sitting across the table.

     “Hello, Father,” Hendery smiled, “long time no see.”

     “Kunhang,” the older man nodded.

     “How’s Yanzi?” Hendery kept the tone light.

     “Have some respect, she’s your mother” his father said, sitting back in his chair.

     “My _step_ mother,” Hendery pointed out.

     “Kunhang,” his father sighed, exasperated.

     “You know I don’t use that name anymore,” Hendery tilted his head.

     “It is your birth name,”

     “It is the name my mother gave me. She’s gone, and so is the old Kunhang you knew,” Hendery spat, “You don’t know me.”

     “But I do, you’re my only son,” his father said, “I know your bugs and your traps. I know that the entire computer system is in your hands right now. I know that, as long as you’re alive, Kun _will_ succeed. His father _will_ lose. All because of you.”

     “Not bad,” Hendery nodded.

     “But is that what you really want? You could take it all from Kun. You don’t have to be just another member. You could be the leader,” his father said, folding his hands in front of him, “you’ve got the brains and the power. Why settle on being third-best?”

     Silence.

     “If you brought me here to tell me this, I think we’re done here,” Hendery said. His hands were beginning to lose feeling, the ropes were too tight.

     “Think about it, son,” his father pleaded. Hendery shook his head.

     “Besides, even if I did manage to kill Kun, Chenle is next in line,” Hendery said. _Except he’s not._

     “He’s not,” his father whispered. Hendery froze.

     “You know,” Hendery gasped. His father nodded.

     “I know everything in the control room, Kunhang,” his father said.

     “Then why didn’t you tell someone?” Hendery screamed. Chenle’s entire life was a lie, and this coward of a man sitting across from him was hiding it all.  

     “Because no one would have believed me!” His father shouted back, “No one knew Chenle existed! Even if I did tell someone, I would be killed from treason.” At this, Hendery laughed. The bitter, maniac-sounding cackle surprised himself, sending shivers down his spine.

     “Have you ever feared death?” his father questioned.  

     “Why would I fear something so inevitable?” Hendery asked. A ridiculous question, really. Who didn’t fear death? Everyone feared death, but there were those who embraced the idea that everything would end one day, and there were those who simply cannot.

     “Why do you not fear death?” his father asked.

     “When you’ve done so many bad things,” Hendery said, “death becomes nothing but a side-effect of your goals. An unfortunate piece of karma, really.”

     “My son, who have you turned into? You’ve strayed so far away from your father’s son.”

     “I have not turned into anyone,” Hendery said, “this is who I always was.” His father closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

     “Please, just think about what I said, Kunhang,”

     “If you’re so adamant about leading, why don’t you do it? You have more power than I do in this organization right now! You control the brains of the network _right now!_ ”

     “Power and control that is being taken from me _by my own son,”_

     “You’re a coward,” Hendery seethed, pulling at his ropes. His father runs a hand over his face.

     “Kunhang, you’re a smart child. You do realize that, out of the two of us in this room, one of us will be dead at the end of the rebellion?”

     “Sicheng-ge is merciful,” Hendery said. But deep down, he wondered if he had lied. Out of all the commanders, his father knew the most. He would be the first one Kun wants eliminated.

     “But Kun is not,” his father had reached the same conclusion.

     “Your point?”

     “My son, I don’t want you to serve someone else. Serving other people is hell,” his father sighed. For the first time today, Hendery’s heart softened a little for his father. Working under the kingpin was not easy, he knew. But he can’t.

     “I won’t. My mother would not want me to live my life with a target on the back of my skull,” Hendery said.

     “But your mother is gone, you said so yourself,”

     “I told you, we’re done here. Now let me leave,” Hendery said with a note of finality.

     “I can’t let you go,” his father whispered, suddenly nervous. Hendery looked back at him.

     “You can’t walk out of this building alive,” his father whispered again.

     “Are you going to kill me?” Hendery raised an eyebrow. His father never had it in him to kill. He was always in the control room, running surveillance. Hendery would bet his laptop that his father hasn’t seen blood in the last ten years.

     “I have no choice,” his father said, pulling the gun from his belt and pointing at Hendery.

     “If you pull the trigger today, then you are not my father, and I am not your son. Not even in death,” Hendery said, closing his eyes. A faint smile graces his face. A merciful death, he hoped. A quick one, he pleaded. _I’m sorry._

 

\--

 

     Yangyang screamed in frustration. He had been searching for the past hour. No sign of Renjun. Renjun’s button had gone dark after the first beep. Yangyang walked back towards the site of the bomb. Counting his steps, he calculates the rough radius of where Renjun could be. A glint of gold flashing under the sun catches his eye. A strand of hair. He ran towards it, his heart in his throat. The earmuffs Renjun wore were at the base of a pile of rubble. Yangyang began to dig furiously, throwing pieces of brick aside.

     “Renjun,” Yangyang shook his arm. Renjun was face down in the pile of rubble, but, by some stroke of luck, his backpack had slid upwards, covering the back of his head. Renjun’s legs were not so lucky.

     “Renjun?” Yangyang felt for his pulse. A weak one, but there nonetheless. With renewed energy, Yangyang ignored shooting pain from his bleeding hands and continued to shove stones aside.

 

\--

 

     Jisung woke up first, feeling better than he had in twenty-four hours. Whatever medication Chenle had bought him last night had worked well. Chenle, on the other hand, was still fast asleep, his chocolate-brown hair falling over his lashes. Jisung took the time to admire the way Chenle slept. His face was content and the little scrunch that was developing between his eyebrows was smooth. Jisung reached out a hand to stroke Chenle’s cheeks.

     “Done staring at me, Sungie?” Chenle murmured. Jisung jumped in surprise.

     “Who’s staring at who, though,” Jisung asked. Chenle smiled and opened his eyes.

     “ g‘Morning,” Chenle said, sitting up, “are you feeling better?”

     “Yeah, a heck lot,” Jisung said, “how’s your arm?”

     “Almost healed, gonna leave a hell of a scar though,” Chenle said.

     “I’m sorry,” Jisung murmured.

     “Don’t be, it’s a reminder that I’m no longer who I used to be,” Chenle said and slid off the bed. He grabbed a towel and opened the door to the bathroom before Jisung called out to him.

     “Hey, uh, thanks. I really owe you one,” Jisung said, scratching the back of his head.

     “We’re partners in crime now, there’s no such thing as 'I owe you’,” Chenle shrugged nonchalantly, closing the bathroom door behind him. Jisung smiled to himself.

 

     “Are you sure we don’t look too conspicuous?” Jisung asked, trailing after Chenle, who hit the elevator button. They both donned face masks, but Chenle forced a cap onto Jisung’s head. Chenle had once again put on the simple white shirt and jeans, but he had “borrowed” Jisung’s leather jacket.

     “No, you look good,” Chenle said. Jisung flushed.

     “Not as good as you with my jacket on,” Jisung muttered to himself as they stepped into the elevator. He hadn’t intended for Chenle to hear that, but Chenle must have. Why else was he grinning like that?

 

     “So, what is poker?” Jisung asked as Chenle entered his name with one hand, the other munching on a bagel.

     “Cards, bets, and money,” Chenle summarized.

     “Of course,” Jisung rolled his eyes.

     “Here, you can watch the first game. It’s pretty simple, actually,” Chenle said, “you know how the cards rank, right?”

     “Ace is the best, right? And then it goes down to 2,”

     “Yup, and if you have five in a row, that’s called a straight flush. Two of the same ranks is a pair, and the best combination of cards is obviously a flush that is a high rank _and_ the same suit,” Chenle said, taking a step back to watch the current game.

     “See that? He took down his bet _and_ his hands are folded out in front. He’s being protective of his cards,” Chenle pointed up at the screen, where four men were playing, “it must mean that his cards are not good.”

     “The guy on the top doesn’t have good cards either,” Chenle noted. Jisung stared at him.

     “How do you know this?” Jisung asked in awe.

     “I played with my cousins a lot. I know all the telltale body language signs. Plus my brother is a poker master, I learned a few things from him,” Chenle shrugged. Jisung’s jaw dropped.

     “The guy on the left has the best cards,” Chenle said after a moment.

     “How do you know that?”

     “He has two aces,” Chenle said.

     “What the hell?” Jisung saw three cards being passed, but how could he be sure they were aces? Chenle laughed.

     “He must have the two aces, because one ace was already dealt and the other is in the guy on the bottom’s hands,” Chenle said, “also, people tend to arrange their cards with the highest on the left side and the lowest on the right side, so it’s pretty obvious if someone inserts a card between two other cards.”

     “Did you memorize the fucking deck?” Jisung asked.

     “Huh, that might be a good idea,” Chenle noted. The game went on, Chenle pointing out the cards and predicting bets. Jisung was slowly getting the hang of the game after watching a few rounds played as Chenle waited for his turn.

     “Yikes, I would not have bet that much on that play,” Chenle said, “she gambled too much on her cards when all she had was one ace and one low pair.” He suddenly pulled Jisung in for a hug, catching the taller boy off guard. The contact sent Jisung’s mind buzzing and his heart thumping.

     “My turn, wish me luck!” Chenle singsonged and took the seat. Jisung felt more nervous _for_ Chenle than Chenle himself.

     Chenle decided to start applying Jisung’s advice and learn to memorize a deck of cards. It seems impossible; there are more ways a deck of cards can be shuffled than the number of atoms on Earth. So he’d start small, with the aces. Maybe even their suits, if he’d tried.  

     “One-fifty,” Chenle said. He didn’t have that much money to begin with and wanted to make his money last as long as possible. The croupier shuffled the deck of cards again, and Chenle kept a mental tally of where the aces were. He’d lost track of which suit was the eighth card in the deck, it was either clubs or spades, because the other black ace was the forty-sixth. Chenle would be passed the fourth, eighth, and twelfth card, since he was the newest one at the table. But the woman with purple nails across from him would be passed two aces, since she would get the second and fourteenth cards. Which meant that Chenle had the second best hand, if he counted the aces only. The forty-sixth card was still in the deck, which meant that he could still draw and get the ace, setting him up to par with the woman. Assuming he had counted right, of course.

     Jisung watched in stunned silence as Chenle moved his cards around and shuffled his chips. It was nearing the bottom of the deck and Jisung could feel his knees shaking. Yet Chenle looked ever confident in himself. He didn’t look like the cute boy from the window, nor did he look like the child from the alleyway. He looked like a commandant, the air of poise making him seem much older. A sudden wave of reverence overcomes Jisung. Chenle’s always cute, but at the poker table, he was a formidable force.  

     His momentary distraction was shattered when loud clapping comes from the people around him. His head snaps up to the board. A woman with purple nails has placed down a pair of cards.

     “Full house,” she said. Jisung squints at the two cards. Three kings and a pair of aces. Jisung has never played poker, but he knew that a hand like that was hard to beat. He glanced at Chenle, who had increased his wager. Chenle didn’t react to the play, instead choosing to stack and restack his chips.

     “Come on, Chenle,” Jisung whispered, more to himself. He wiped his palms on his jeans, trying to stop them from shaking. When Chenle finally looked up, Jisung recognized that look in his eyes. Chenle nonchalantly tossed his cards to the middle of the table.

     "Straight Flush," he said. Gasps and whispers around the table. Jisung stared at him from across the table, mouth open in disbelief.His mind is a whirl of emotions, but one thought comes to him glaringly clear: _I'm in love with him._

     After his first game, Chenle starts to build a small but steady pile of chips. His name is being whispered around. _Who is this QCL? Where does he come from? How is he still winning?_ By the end of the morning, Chenle has amassed quite a stack of chips.

     “Sungie, let’s go out to eat,” Chenle said when he stepped away from the table, stretching his hand out to carry the plastic bag of chips. Chenle took them to the counter and traded them for some cash.

     “Lele, I was just thinking,” Jisung said once they’d stepped outside, “if you keep winning big, they might suspect something.”

     “I’ve only just started,” Chenle pointed out, turning the corner after Jisung.

     “I’m just preventing the ‘what if’, you know?” Jisung said.

     “Yeah, I know,” Chenle said. Suddenly, the sound of an engine came down the street. Jisung instinctively pulled Chenle against the wall, watching as the silver car zoomed by.

     “Holy shit,” Chenle muttered. Jisung was acutely aware that they were still holding hands, but Chenle either didn’t notice or was fine with it. Out of courtesy, Jisung dropped his hand. Chenle immediately pouted.

     “You want me to hold your hand?” Jisung asked tentatively. Chenle gave him the puppy eyes and nodded. Jisung’s heart did somersaults as he took Chenle’s small hand in his large ones, completely enveloping his fingers. Happily, Chenle started walking down the street, tugging Jisung after him.

     “Sungie, you wanna be my boyfriend?” Chenle asked suddenly. Jisung froze.

     “What?” Jisung asked, worried that he’d misheard. Chenle looked down at his feet.

     “I mean, I’d totally understand if you didn’t want to. I mean, we’ve barely known each other. Also, I’m kind of weird, and I don’t know how annoying I can be and--,” His blabbering is stopped by a soft hand on his cheek.

     “On one condition,” Jisung said. Chenle looked at him with big chocolate eyes.

     “That you’d be _my_ boyfriend, too.”

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please do tell me if I make a typo or something, I really suck at English, thanks :))  
> Chp 9 spoiler: 
> 
> Taeyong knew he was being followed. The man in the black suit had turned every corner in the train station with him. The thought sent shivers down his spine. He prayed to whatever deity out there that if anything happened to him, Jaehyun wouldn't find out. He'd rather Jaehyun think him lost but alive, compared to at home but dead.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited, because I die like a real woman
> 
> -Hel

     Chenle decides that having Jisung as his boyfriend has improved the quality of his life by an infinite amount. Not much changed between them; Chenle was still curled up against Jisung in the bed. He snuggled deeper into Jisung’s chest, the latter’s arm coming around automatically to cuddle him. 

     “Sungie, we should probably relocate,” Chenle whispered, “we can’t stay in one place for too long.”

     “I know,” Jisung said, “we can check out tomorrow.” 

     “Let’s find another hotel to crash at,” Chenle said, “we’ve got the money now.” 

     “How much?” Jisung asked. 

     “Almost two thousand,” Chenle said. 

  
  
  


\--

 

     Taeyong knew he was being followed. The man in the black suit had turned every corner in the upscale train station with him. He'd rather Jaehyun think him lost but alive, compared to at home but dead. The thought sent shivers down his spine. He prayed to whatever deity out there that if anything happened to him, Jaehyun wouldn't find out. His heart rate picked up. What should he do? He chose to go to the most dense area; the cafe. Taeyong waited in line, pulling out his phone to check behind him, the dark screen reflecting the man in the black suit across the walkway. Taeyong pocketed his phone, debating whether or not to send an SOS text to Jaehyun. He shouldn’t. What if Jaehyun was busy? What if Jaehyun’s location was revealed because of him? 

     He took a seat with his back against the wall. One less angle he could be attacked from, Taeyong hoped. He sipped at his boiling hot coffee, eyes and ears strained. Sure enough, the same man entered the cafe and ordered an iced water. Taeyong tried not to look too nervous, starting down at his phone like any other young person in the store. The man thanks the barista and sits down at the table to Taeyong’s left. Two minutes later, another man wearing the same exact suit entered the cafe.  _ Damn, it’s like a glitch in the fucking matrix,  _ Taeyong thought bitterly. His coffee was still too hot to drink, but Taeyong raised it to his lips anyway, breathing in the calming scent. It reminded him so much of Jaehyun, who made coffee first thing in the morning. The newcomer takes a seat to Taeyong’s right. That’s when Taeyong’s fight or flight instinct kicked in. 

     Under the guise of leaving the cafe, Taeyong tried to put distance between himself and the men in black suits. His hand quivers slightly as it gripped the paper cup tightly. A scrape of a chair comes from behind him and Taeyong quickened his pace, his heart thumping. 

     A hand falls on his shoulder, making Taeyong freeze. 

     “Where are you going, pretty boy?” the man asked, his voice low. 

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taeyong said. 

     “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Lee Taeyong,” the man said. Taeyong ignored him and tried to take a step forward. The hand on his shoulder yanked him backwards, causing Taeyong to stumble. He uses the momentum to whirl around, the cup of hot coffee in his hands spilling purposefully across the man’s face. 

     “I said don’t touch me!” Taeyong yelled, trying to attract attention. The cafe is dead silent. Everyone is staring. 

     “He’s trying to kill me!” Taeyong yelled, pointing a finger. Across the cafe, he notices someone discreetly calling the police. The second agent is slowly standing up. 

     “Nice tactic, but it won’t get you anywhere,” the second man said, taking another step forward. He reaches a hand out for Taeyong, but Taeyong slips out of his grip and bolts out of the cafe. There are footsteps running after him. He sprints down the corridor, dodging people as he runs. He shoves the doors open, sprinting out to the parking garage. A metallic click echoes in the space. A gunshot, and the pavement to the left of his feet explodes. Taeyong’s brain is paralyzed, but his legs still push him to move, to live. He starts to weave between the parked cars, trying to make shooting him harder. But it’s still two against one, and Taeyong finds himself running out of options as the bullets  _ ping  _ around him. Suddenly, he finds himself airborne. A stupid mistake really. A bullet struck the pavement right in front of him, sending his feet tripping over the stone slab. Taeyong hits the ground with a roll and pushes himself back on his feet. His momentary delay, however, was enough to allow the agent to aim the dart and fire it, directly into his back. Taeyong feels a sharp pain and blindly gropes around. He yanks the now empty tranquilizer dart out of his skin. As if on cue, the world starts to spin out of focus, the darkness creeps in, and Taeyong falls to his knees. He has just enough energy in him to make sure he doesn’t hit his head on the cement before he blacks out. 

 

\--

     Xiaojun both loved and hated the trackers. 

     Hendery had gone with a previous prototype, to prevent them from being easily hacked. Ones that were attached to the wrist like a wristwatch, rather than implanted under the skin. But the problem was the poor connectivity. There was a certain radius of positions it could detect, and it required signals bounce off of each other in order to increase the range. Hence their strategically placed safehouse. They ran on the voltage of the human body. If someone’s button disappeared off of the map, it either meant they were out of range, or that their body was no longer functioning. Xiaojun glared at the small dots on the laptop screen, checking for updates every five minutes. It wasn’t until Kun and Sicheng came into the range that it updated all the other’s coordinates. 

 

\--

 

     Ten sprinted left, a bullet from his gun finding its home in the chest of a guard. The telltale click of an empty chamber alerts Ten to switch to his knives. He grabs a pair of fighting knives from his belt, immediately throwing one at the second guard who approached. He doesn’t bother with the rest of them, choosing instead to grab a dust and mustard gas bomb Sicheng had made and set it off.  _ Hendery.  _ Xiaojun had predicted that Hendery’s father would try to step in. Ten felt like such an idiot. Why didn’t he do anything? He was Hendery’s partner, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t have let Hendery go alone up to the control tower. Which Renjun then blew up. Fucking hell. They were supposed to come out of it together. All of them.

     He ran like a madman through the winding corridor, knowing exactly where he was headed. This was his old training base. He had spent so many years here, yet the same emotion was stinging his chest. Panic. Ten hits the last hallway and stops, listening for any sounds. Hearing shouting from the right, Ten bolts down the hallway. When he shoves the hallway doors open, he is greeted by the sight of Hendery’s father pointing a gun. Ten’s mind screams out at him and he throws his fighting knife at the man. The knife leaves his hand at the same exact time the Commandant of Information pulls the trigger.

     Ten’s legs move of their own accord. He sprints towards the man, tackling him with his body weight. Ten’s mind goes blank as he pulled the knife out from his neck and stabs him again. His vision is clouded, red with anger and blood splatters that cling to his eyelashes. Ten only stops when the man stops twitching, his blood running on the cold cement floor. 

     “Ten,” a soft whisper. Ten’s eyes snap up. Hendery twisted his hand uncomfortably. 

     “No, no, no,” Ten hurried over, his bloody knife slicing through the ropes like butter. 

     “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Hendery choked out, “he missed.” Ten immediately starts to inspect Hendery for wounds. A single blossom of blood dots his white shirt at his diaphragm. 

     “You’ve been shot,” Ten whispered. He swung his backpack around, searching for Kun’s miracle spray. His fingers close around the small container and he pulls it out, shaking the contents. 

     “Heh, I’ve been shot,” Hendery seemed almost amused.  It hurt like hell, but Ten was here. Even if he died now, Ten was here. Ten was always there for him. Ten was there for him the first time he was defeated in combat training. Ten was there for him when he got his first laptop. Ten was there when he hacked his first database. 

     “Hendery, hold on,” Ten said, prying away at the cloth that covered the horrendous wound, “painkillers, in my bag, I don’t have water, sorry.” Hendery reached over for the small orange bottle and grabbed four pills, twice the recommended dosage, but Hendery didn’t care right now. 

     “Thanks, Ten-ge,” Hendery said. A sudden cough bubbled up in his throat. Ten watched, horrified, as blood dripped down Hendery’s chin. 

     “Ew, it tastes disgusting,” Hendery muttered, wiping it on his sleeve. Ten finally managed to cut away Hendery’s shirt. Shaking the bottle, he sprayed the wound, the telltale clear film already stopping the blood. The sound of pounding boots echoes down the hallway. 

     “Shit,” Ten muttered, “go out the window, Hendery.”

     “Without you?” Hendery laughed weakly, “never.” 

     “Listen, you have to go, I’ll catch up later, alright?” Ten said, gripping Hendery’s hand and slipping his own SOS button into his hand.

     "Promise?" Hendery asked. Ten nodded. 

     "I promise," Ten said, giving him a light shove. Hendery nodded weakly and stood, wincing at the pain. Ten swung his backpack over his shoulder, marching out to the hallway.

     “Stay safe,” Hendery whispered, but Ten didn’t hear him. He slammed his shoulder into the window, hissing at the pain. Small fissures appeared in the glass. Hendery slammed a boot against the glass and it gave away. Hendery spared one glance back at Ten’s petite figure before pressing the button, pulling himself out of the window.

 

     Ten threw the first bomb just as the guards pushed open the hallway door. The distinct smell of gasoline explodes in the hallway. The flint and steel on the outside of the bomb clinked together and generated a spark. The spark caught immediately, setting the hallway ablaze. Ten ran back into the room, taking note of the broken window.  _ Stall, I have to stall for Hendery.  _

He whirled around, his bloody fighting knife in his hand, a gasoline bomb in the other, and a psychopathic laughter in his smoke-filled lungs. 

 

\--

 

     “Yukhei, Ten’s in danger,” Xiaojun murmured. 

     “Ten? Then it’s bad,” Yukhei cursed. 

     “So was Renjun,” Xiaojun checked the log again. 

     “How long ago?” 

     “Renjun’s went off was about an hour ago. Ten’s was five minutes ago,” Xiaojun said, fingers typing on the laptop. He’s no Hendery, but he’s the second-best technician on the team. The delay was frustrating, but the lack of signal from the buttons to the safehouse was impossible. 

     “Where’s Kun and Sicheng?” Yukhei asked. 

     “Five blocks away, due east,” Xiaojun said. Yukhei glanced at the map. 

     “I’m going to Yangyang and Renjun,” Yukhei said. Xiaojun bit his lip. 

     “I know I should stop you, but…” Xiaojun took a deep breath, “if you die, I will personally drag your ass back from hell just to kill you again.” 

     “Got it,” Yukhei said, slipping his boots on and heading out the door. Xiaojun watched the door close behind him. Xiaojun glanced around the small safehouse. 

     “Everyone please come home,” he prayed silently, watching Yukhei’s small glowing dot move farther away. Small beeps from the laptop and a flash of red send Xiaojun’s heart up his throat.  

 

\-- 

 

     “Kun, Ten’s called SOS,” Sicheng whispered urgently as they walked out of the headquarters. Kun took a deep breath. 

     “Where are the rest of them?” Kun asked. Sicheng glanced at the tablet. 

     “Yangyang and Renjun are moving towards the safehouse. Hendery is moving alone. Yukhei is moving towards Yangyang and Renjun. Ten is…” Sicheng squinted at the map. 

     “Where is Ten?” Kun asked. Sicheng opened the log. 

     “Ten’s disconnected,” Sicheng whispered. 

     “How far is Hendery from Ten’s last known location?” Kun asked, stepping out of the car. Sicheng desperately trying to update the log. 

     “Hendery should still be in Ten’s range/ He was about one minute ago,” Sicheng said. A knowing silence fell upon the car. 

     “Then we hope for the best,” Kun said, walking briskly towards the safehouse. Sicheng scrambled in after him. 

 

     “Ten-ge is gone,” Xiaojun choked out as Kun and Sicheng stepped in. 

     “He’s gone, I saw his dot disappear,” Xiaojun finally stopped furiously typing and closed his eyes. 

     “Hendery was still in range when it happened,” Xiaojun whispered. Sicheng sat down suddenly, unable to draw in a breath. Kun leaned against the wall, a single tear running down his cheek. 

     “Where are the others?” Kun asked. 

     “Yukhei has met up with Hendery, Yangyang, and Renjun. They should be here in ten minutes,” Xiaojun said, furiously wiping at his eyes. 

     “Can you tell if any of them are injured?” Kun asked. Xiaojun squinted at the logs. 

     “Yangyang is moving very slowly, and his and Renjun’s dot seem to be at the exact same location. I’m assuming that one of them is carrying the other,” Xiaojun analyzed, trying to ignore the burn in his chest. 

     “And Yukhei and Hendery?” 

     “If Ten and Hendery came from the same place, and Ten...Hendery might also have injuries,” Xiaojun stopped himself. 

     “Sicheng, when’s the last time you did a surgery?” Kun asked. Sicheng’s head snapped up. 

     “Two years ago,” Sicheng whispered. 

     “Well, get your gloves on, and let’s go,” Kun said, slipping out of his jacket. 

 

     Yangyang arrived first, carrying an unconscious Renjun on his back. With Sicheng’s help, he placed Renjun down on the cot. 

     “Explosion, legs,” Yangyang gasped out. He headed to the bathroom to wash his hands and put on a pair of gloves. Kun inspected Renjun’s legs. Sicheng hustled around, wiping up the dried blood from Renjun’s forehead. 

     “Sicheng, stitch his forehead wound,” Kun commanded. Sicheng nodded and went to work. Yangyang came out of the bathroom and dove in, handing Sicheng the needle. 

     “Hendery!” Xiaojun’s shout could be heard from the living room. Yangyang’s head snapped up. Kun nodded at him, and Yangyang scampered away. 

     “Bullet wound,” Hendery said, “diaphragm.” Yangyang cursed internally. 

     “You can do it!” Kun called from the other room. Yangyang looked over at Hendery, as if he’s asking for permission. 

     “I trust you,” Hendery said, lying himself down on the couch. Yangyang had never taken a bullet out on his own before. Every time he did, it was with Kun as the main surgeon. Sure, he’d seen it done multiple times, but to do it himself is another experience. 

     “Yukhei, be my assistant,” Yangyang said, slipping into the medical mindset. Yukhei jumped up to attention. 

     “Got it,” 

     “Light the flame, will you?” Yangyang asked. Yukhei struck a match to ignite the burner.

     “You wanna be out?” Yangyang asked, holding up the bottle of sleep medication. Hendery shook his head. 

     “I took four painkillers, I’m high as fuck right now,” Hendery muttered. Yangyang shrugged, slipping a popsicle stick horizontally between Hendery’s teeth. 

     “Why?” Hendery mumbled around the stick. 

     “So you don’t bite your own tongue off in pain,” Yangyang shrugged. Carefully, he began to peel the covering away from the wound. Hendery hissed, causing Yukhei to walk around and his hands on Hendery’s shoulders. Yangyang grabbed the pliers and ran them through the flame. 

     “This might hurt a bit,” he warned, before digging in to find the bullet. Hendery yelled out, but Yukhei forced his shoulders down. 

     “Got it,” Yangyang muttered, dropping the bloody bullet onto the tissue.

     “The hard part is over,” Yangyang said, more to himself than anyone else, “now all I gotta do is stitch you up.” 

     “Your mesentery will have to heal on its own,” Yangyang said as he threaded his needle, “there’s nothing I can do about that. You might have some residual blood in your alveoli, so expect to cough blood for the next week or so. It will hurt to breathe once the painkillers wear off. The bullet wasn’t too deep. I’m guessing it was designed to carry less gunpowder than the traditional bullet.” 

     “He never intended to kill me,” Hendery whispered. Yukhei glanced between them. 

     “Your father, right?” Xiaojun asked from the table. 

     “Yeah, he never intended to kill me,” Hendery said, “but Ten killed him.” 

     “Speaking of, where’s Ten?” Yukhei asked. Xiaojun, who was still sitting at the table, stiffened. 

     “Let’s get Hendery to stop bleeding first,” he said, voice wavering slightly. If anyone noticed, no one commented on the unsteadiness of his tone. 

 

     “Renjun broke both tibias, will need an X-ray and casts. I’ve splinted his legs in place for now, but I really need that X-ray.” Kun said. 

     “Forehead stitching looks fine, but still out cold,” Sicheng added. 

     “Dug a bullet out of Hendery,” Yangyang finished. 

     “But where’s Ten?” Yukhei asked. 

     “He’s disconnected,” Xiaojun whispered. Hendery felt as though a bucket of cold water was dumped on his head.  _He promised. He promised he'd follow. He promised._

     “What does that mean?” Yangyang asked. 

     “It means,” Hendery coughed into the stained handkerchief, “it means that Ten’s either out of range or dead.”

     “He’s probably out of range,” Yukhei summarized, hoping for the best. Xiaojun shook his head. 

     “Hendery was still in range when his went out,” Xiaojun pointed out. Silence falls over the group. Hendery’s heart fell at the statement. It was his fault. He was dumb enough to get caught and Ten came to save him. Ten gave his  _ life _ to save Hendery. The world starts to blur with tears. 

     “That’s a lie,” Yukhei muttered, “that is such a goddamn lie. There is no way Ten,  _ Ten, _ could be dead.” 

     “Or his tracker is destroyed,” Sicheng pointed out quietly. 

     “Can I see the last location sent?” Hendery asked suddenly, a new hope blooming in his chest. The atmosphere changes immediately, but no one is foolish enough to hope for more. 

     “Here,” Xiaojun passed him his laptop. Hendery winced at the move log, seeing his own position change. He scrolled up to Ten’s last known location and clicked on the analytics of it. He looked at the strength of the signals sent. 

     “He didn’t die with the tracker on him,” Hendery said carefully, “if Ten-ge is dead, then the tracker was not on him when he died.” 

     “But is there a chance that it was only destroyed, and that maybe Ten could be alive?” Kun asked. Hendery nodded. A collective sigh around the table.

     “How do you know?” Sicheng asked. Hendery gestured at the signal strengths. 

     “If the tracker is destroyed, the signals would end suddenly. If Ten-ge died, it would fade out slowly, since the body would still carry some charge after death,” Hendery pointed at the screen, “see how it cuts out suddenly right here?” Curious, he copied the timestamp of the last signal sent and matched it to his own location. He was about twenty feet away from Ten, meaning he was already out the window and running. 

     “I was right there,” he whispered, “I could have helped him.” 

     “I’m glad you didn’t,” Kun said, “otherwise we might lose both of you.” 

     “But I could have saved Ten!” Hendery said again, “we could have come back  _ together _ .” 

     “But we also might lose  _ both of you, _ ” Kun said, “I’m glad you’re here, Hendery.” 

     “There’s no need to beat yourself up over this,” Sicheng pointed out, “Ten-ge might still be alive.” 

     “But if he’s not,” Hendery whispered, “it’s all my fault.” 

 

\--

 

     “Tomorrow is day three,” Sicheng whispered to Kun as they laid awake. Everyone else had fallen asleep or was still out cold.

     “Tomorrow is day three,” Kun affirmed, “all or nothing.”

     “What if Ten doesn’t come back?” Sicheng whispered. 

     “We can go search when we win,” Kun promised. 

     “We also have to find Chenle,” Sicheng reminded him. Kun nodded. 

     “My little half-brother,” Kun murmured. 

     “Does that change anything between the two of you?” Sicheng asked, “him and you only being half-brothers?” 

     “No, it never will,” Kun said definitively, “we’ve been fine up to now, and we will continue to be fine. I just don’t know if he’ll accept me.” 

     “I’m sure he will,” Sicheng said, “we all would.” Kun took a deep breath. 

     “Good night, Sicheng,”

     “G’nite, Kun-ge,” 

 

     “I, uh, I have something to say,” Hendery said. It was five in the morning, but Kun and Sicheng had already left. The others would meet them later in the morning.

     “Yes, Hendery?” Yangyang said patiently. 

     “So Chenle,” Hendery gulped, “Chenle is Kun’s  _ half- _ brother.” 

     “What do you mean?” Xiaojun asked. 

     “Kun and Chenle had the same mother,” Hendery explained, “but they have different fathers.” 

     “Does Kun know this?” Yukhei asked. 

     “Probably, I’m not sure, but I know Chenle has no clue,”

     “Well, I don’t care,” Yangyang shrugged, “Lele is still Lele. I don’t give two shits who donated the sperm.” 

     “Neither do I,” Xiaojun agreed. 

     “Same,” Yukhei said. 

     “You will, once I tell you who it is,” Hendery said. 

     “What?” Yangyang asked. 

     “Remember how, when Chenle was kidnapped, he mentioned something about a debt around seventeen years ago?” Hendery asked, “that debt, was Chenle himself. Jiang just had no idea.” 

     “You mean to say, that Chenle is a child of the Jopok?” Yukhei asked. 

     “Their mother was sent to negotiate, wasn’t she? And how long were they in Korea for? Three days? Do most negotiations between criminal organizations take just three days? Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Hendery said. 

     “But would Mrs. Qian really do that?” Yangyang seemed wary of the suggestions. 

     “I’m going to make some big assumptions and say yes,” Renjun said. All eyes turned to him. 

     “Well, first off,” Renjun said, “her father never gave his blessing. Sure, he did die early, but he still had plenty of time to do so. Yet he didn’t. And Kun never liked his father, even before his mother’s death. Could this be reflective of his mother never liking his father?” 

     “Well, according to the old ladies’ gossip,” Yukhei added, “their mother was only interested in money. So she might have gone to anyone with more money or power.”

     “Is this what you do when you accompany Mom to the supermarket?” Renjun asked. Yukhei shrugged. 

     “But whom?” Yangyang asked, redirecting the conversation. 

     “I found a document in the control room that had one line in it, it was ‘Seo Chen-Le’.  _ Seo, _ I’m guessing his real father’s last name was Seo,” Hendery deducted. Xiaojun gasped loudly. 

     “Didn’t Jaehyun mention that there were two sons? One of them I know is named Seo Youngho,” Xiaojun asked. Silence, as everyone processed the information. 

     “Shit, wasn’t that also Ten’s boyfriend’s name?” Yukhei asked. 

     “What the fuck?” Yangyang whispered. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chp 10: 
> 
> "Chenle!"   
> "Run, Jisung. Run!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late, i know :(  
> but hey, we're hitting the high point of the story, sooooooo  
> -Helena

_     “If you had the choice to go back or stay with me,” Taeyong began. Jaehyun didn’t even let him finish.  _

_     “I wouldn’t ever choose the Jopok over you,” Jaehyun replied, kissing the back of Taeyong’s hand.  _

_     “But why not?” Taeyong asked, “you had power and fame and riches. And then you met me, a nobody. You’ve only known me for a month. Why would you give the life you knew up for a life of hard work and poverty?”  _

_     “Because,” Jaehyun had said, “you light up my world. You’re kind and smart and funny. I would give up anything for you.”  _

_     “Anything?” Taeyong asked.  _

_     “Anything,” Jaehyun promised.  _

 

_     The scene shifted.  _

 

_     “Don’t go, please,” Taeyong begged. Jaehyun couldn’t hear him.  _

_     “I need you to take the train to Busan,” Jaehyun said, “I’ll meet you there, alright?”  _

_     “Jaehyun, don’t do this, please come with me,” Taeyong begged again.  _

_     “I’ll find you, by any means necessary,” Jaehyun said as the white started to trickle into the middle. Taeyong tried to hold on, to cling on to the last threads of Jaehyun’s promise.  _

 

“Jaehyun!” Taeyong woke up with a yell. The memories had started to trickle into his dreams. Taeyong was lying on the small cot in the corner of his cell, his fingers clawing at his own skin. 

  
  


\--

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaehyun said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Jaehyun, please,” Johnny pleaded with him, “I love him,” 

“And I love Taeyong, so?” Jaehyun said, trying to keep his voice indifferent, “we’re in the same boat. We’re both suckers without a way out.” 

“At least you know Taeyong is alive,” Johnny said, “Ten’s  _ missing. _ ” Jaehyun narrowed his eyes. 

“How do you know that?” Jaehyun asked. Johnny stiffened. 

“Ten and I, we don’t want this life anymore,” Johnny said, closing his eyes. In the dim light of the tattoo parlor, Jaehyun notices the changes on Johnny’s face; his face is slimmer, dark circles under his eyes. 

“Then leave, do what I did,” Jaehyun said. Johnny looked at him. 

“Impossible for me,” Johnny whispered, “I’m the eldest.” 

“There’s another Seo heir out there,” Jaehyun said. Johnny looked Jaehyun in the eyes. 

“I can’t do that to him,” Johnny whispered, “he’s too young, he’s carefree. I’ve seen him.” This draws Jaehyun’s attention. 

“You’ve met your little brother? I thought no one’s allowed to see him,” Jaehyun said. Safety concerns, he was always told. No one was allowed to know the younger Seo’s real name either. There was some doubt that such a child existed, but those who doubted kept their silence. 

“Yeah, I saw him at the casino,” Johnny said. Jaehyun frowned. 

“How old is this kid?” Jaehyun asked. 

“Almost eighteen,” 

“And he’s in a casino?” Jaehyun asked. 

“Jaehyun, you’re not getting the point here,” Johnny said, shaking his head, “he’s too young.” 

“Eighteen is not too young,” Jaehyun said, “My first kill at fourteen.” 

“Jaehyun, you’re superhuman, ok?” Johnny sighed, “point is, Ten and I want out.” 

“You’re going to leave a power vacuum,” Jaehyun warned, “people will die fighting for your vacant seat. The younger Seo will probably perish in the bloodbath.” 

“I know, but I’m willing to drop this life for Ten, just like how you left for Taeyong,” Johnny said, glancing down at the floor. A glint on Jaehyun’s hand catches his eye. 

“Jaehyun, what’s that?” Johnny asked. Jaehyun froze. Johnny grabbed Jaehyun’s hand and brought it up to the light. 

“I never took you for the sappy kind,” Johnny laughed, “a ring? Already?” 

“It was now or never,” Jaehyun said. Johnny nodded. 

“The storm is coming, indeed,” Johnny said, “There’s a war happening on the west side of the Yellow Sea, and it won’t be long before the wind blows it over this way.”

“What are your plans?” Jaehyun asked. Johnny sighed. 

“Find Ten, and run,” Johnny said. 

“You said Ten was missing, how do you know that?” Jaehyun asked. 

“He always manages to send me a message,” Johnny said, “He hasn’t sent me one in twenty-six hours.” 

“You haven’t slept a wink for twenty-six hours,” Jaehyun guessed. Johnny nodded. 

“He’s never like this,” Johnny said, “something must have happened.” 

“I haven’t gotten any updates from Kun either,” Jaehyun said. Johnny looked confused. 

“I didn’t tell you? I was sheltering his little brother, Chenle,” Jaehyun said. 

“What did you say his little brother’s name was?” Johnny asked, his voice suddenly so quiet that Jaehyun struggled to catch his words. 

“Chenle, so?” Jaehyun asked. Johnny squeezed his eyes shut and plopped down on the chair behind the counter. 

“Fuck, why does shit always have to be so complicated?” Johnny asked no one in particular. Jaehyun was as confused as ever. 

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun asked. Johnny looked Jaehyun in the eyes. 

“His name is Chenle, too,” Johnny said. Jaehyun immediately understood. 

“Coincidence?” Jaehyun asked hopefully, though it seemed impossible. How often does a Chinese name pop up in Korea? 

“Do you know someone by the name of Park Jisung?” Johnny asked, “because the Chenle I saw was hanging out with him.” 

“Fuck, why does shit always have to be so complicated?” Jaehyun asked, echoing Johnny’s words. 

“Help me, please,” Johnny begged. 

“I can’t help you find Ten,” Jaehyun said, “but I can fill your void temporarily.” 

“I know I’m being such a pain in the ass to ask you to go back to the Jopok,” Johnny said, “I really owe you one.” 

“We were always partners in crime,” Jaehyun said, shrugging. 

“We always will be,” Johnny said. 

 

\--

 

Chenle holds Jisung’s hand in his as he skips down the street, swinging his arms and tugging Jisung along. 

“Where do we want to go now?” Jisung asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t care,” Chenle shrugged, slowing down to match Jisung’s pace, “where do  _ you  _ want to go?” 

“Let’s go buy some lunch and then think, I’m hungry,” Jisung said. Chenle laughed. In that moment, Jisung decided that making Chenle laugh, watching his eyes scrunch and his face explode with joy, was enough for him to live on. 

 

They pick a smaller seafood restaurant, the waitress leading them to a booth. Chenle slides into the seat opposite Jisung, who passed him a menu. 

“What is this?” Chenle asked, pointing at the menu’s cover. 

“Live octopus,” Jisung said. 

“Have you had it? Does it taste good?” Chenle asked. 

“No, but do you want to try it?” Jisung asked. 

 

“You first,” Chenle said, pushing the plate of octopus towards Jisung. Jisung raises an eyebrow at him and clicks his chopsticks twice. 

“Only if you give me a kiss,” Jisung smirked. Chenle looked surprised for a second, before leaning over the table and lightly brushing his lips to Jisung’s. It was barely a kiss, but a scarlet blush was already dusting Chenle’s cheeks. Jisung smiled, picked up his chopsticks, and popped a piece of octopus in his mouth. 

“Oh my god, it wiggles!” Jisung choked out. Chenle laughed, the shyness between them dissipating. 

“My turn!” Chenle happily squealed, before suddenly restraining himself. 

“What happened?” Jisung asked, noticing the change in Chenle’s demeanor. 

“Since you’re so bold,” Chenle grinned. He opened his mouth like a little baby bird. Without hesitation, Jisung picked up a piece with his own chopsticks and placed it into Chenle’s mouth. 

“You’re cute,” Jisung said. Chenle choked on his wiggling octopus. 

Jisung admired the way the soft, golden sunlight fell over Chenle’s eyes and nose, the way his hair seemed to be tinted with a coppery shade in the setting sun. They had been wandering the streets for an hour after their dinner and were planning to find a room to crash in for the night. 

 

Jisung decided that he wouldn’t mind being on the run for his entire life if it meant that he got to hold Chenle close as he slept. Cheap motels and sirens be damned, no amount of thrill he sought could compare to the thrill of loving Chenle. The smaller boy was huddled close to Jisung, who wrapped his arms around his waist. The constant exercise and lack of proper meals had brought out the muscles in Chenle’s arms, giving them definition and making him seem older. He buried his nose in Chenle’s hair, still soft despite the heavy scent of hotel shampoo.  Jisung’s heart felt as though it could leap out of his chest. He closed his eyes, falling into a light sleep. 

Chenle was the first to wake up. The sound of sirens was too close to ignore. His heart leapt in his throat. When the sound only seemed to be drawing nearer, he shook Jisung awake. 

“Sungie, the police are coming,” he whispered. Jisung immediately snapped up. Quietly, they slipped their jackets on and packed their backpacks. Voices from outside wafted through their open window. 

“They’re heading in!” Chenle said, glancing out. Jisung grabbed his hand and bolted for the fire escape at the end of the hall. When his feet connected with the concrete of the back alley, Chenle bolted after Jisung, but not fast enough. Someone had noticed their escape. Chenle glanced over his shoulder at the man chasing them. The man would call for backup, Chenle knew. Something had to be done, and it had to be done now. 

"Chenle!" Jisung noticed that Chenle had slowed down. 

"Run, Jisung. Run!" Chenle turned back around and sped up. As they ran down the twisting alleys, Jisung made a split-second decision. 

“You go on, you’re more valuable than I am,” Jisung said. 

“What do you mean? You’re Park Jisung! The youngest person on the Most Wanted list!” Chenle said angrily. 

“Yes, but you’re Qian Chenle, heir to the fucking Chinese mafia,” Jisung said back, “who would be more valuable? A petty criminal or the greatest bargaining chip ever?” 

“Stop, we’re in this together,” Chenle said. Jisung shook his head. 

“No, if they catch one of us, the chances that they’ll pursue the other are much smaller,” Jisung said, “they will be blinded by their success at taking either one of us.” 

“Then I’ll stay,” Chenle said. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jisung said. He swung his backpack around to the front as they ran, shoving the food and money from his backpack into Chenle’s hands. 

“No, stop!” Chenle said, trying to shove it all back into Jisung’s bag. . 

“Listen, if you don’t go, then they’ll catch both of us,” Jisung said, panting. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Chenle whispered. Jisung’s heart softened for a brief second, but the growing sound of sirens brought him back to reality. 

“Go up to the roof and run, stay hidden, alright?” Jisung said. 

“Alright,” Chenle whispered, shouldering the backpack again. He pulled Jisung in for a hug, his head resting on his shoulder. 

“I love you,” Chenle whispered. Jisung’s heart twisted in sadness. He won’t make it out of the criminal justice system alive, he knew that. Better not to give Chenle false hope. So he didn’t say it back.

“Go,” Jisung gave Chenle a small push. Chenle understood. He grabbed at the brick and pulled himself up. Jisung watched from the ground, happy that his boyfriend would be safe for at least one more night. 

 

Chenle leaned over the edge of the roof. Down below, he could see Jisung standing alone in the alleyway. He hoped that Jisung would look up, but he knew that if he did, Jisung would be exposing Chenle’s location. Chenle watched as the police cars blocked off both ends of the alleyway, watched as they came out of their cars, guns raised. It was almost like watching a movie, except this time, he was rooting for the bad guy. His heart twisted when he saw Jisung turn with his hands raised in surrender, watched as his boyfriend was cuffed and taken away in a police car. He swiped at his eyes. When had he started crying?

  
  


\--

  
  


It was a strange feeling, Taeyong decided. Being kidnapped was a strange feeling. There’s the fear that comes with the constant threat of danger lingering in the air, but there’s also the knowledge that no one can kill him. Yet. 

“I’m so sorry you have to be here,” the young guard said. Taeyong had taken a liking to him in the last couple of days. Jungwoo was nice, much more polite than the others, and he was the only one who actually tried to keep Taeyong company. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t have a choice,” Taeyong shrugged, sipping on the soup Jungwoo had brought. 

“When do you get off your shift?” Taeyong asked when he had finished. He hated it when it wasn’t Jungwoo. All the other guards would either give him stony silence or mock him. 

“I have to go in an hour,” Jungwoo said. Taeyong nodded his thanks and handed the bowl back to Jungwoo through the bars of the jail. 

“I’ll ask for the keys tomorrow so you can stretch your legs,” Jungwoo promised. Taeyong shook his head. 

“They’d never give it to you. If they traveled all the way to Busan to track me down, there is no way they would let me anywhere out of this cell,” Taeyong said. 

“I’m still going to try,” Jungwoo said, standing up. 

“Don’t,” Taeyong warned, “I don’t want them to think that there is something going on between us. You might get in big trouble.” At this, Jungwoo gave up. He sighed. 

“I don’t want to live like this anymore,” Jungwoo whispered, “I hate working for the Jopok.” 

“You didn’t have a choice,” Taeyong reminded him gently. 

“I know, but sometimes I wish my father wasn’t my father, so then he wouldn’t be drinking up all the money and then lending money that he couldn’t pay off,” Jungwoo sighed. 

“We don’t pick family, but we pick our friends,” Taeyong said, “it doesn’t matter who you are born with; it matters who you choose to be with.” 

“Yes, and I chose not to be here, with the same people who kill and steal and lie and cheat for a living,” Jungwoo said. 

“It’ll get better,” Taeyong promised. Empty promises, but they still gave hope. 

“Tell me about your husband,” Jungwoo whispered, “I want to know what it’s like to live and not try to survive.” 

“My husband?” Taeyong’s brain short-circuited for a second. 

“Yeah, I mean. I heard you muttering a name in your sleep, and you’re wearing a wedding band, so I guessed,” Jungwoo shrugged. Taeyong’s hand unconsciously went to spin the ring on his finger. 

“Well, my husband,” Taeyong started, the word tasting bittersweet on his tongue, “his name is Jaehyun, and he lights up my world.” Jungwoo smiled, sitting back down against the metal bars, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. 

 

\--

 

Jaehyun couldn’t believe his eyes. The words that flashed on the screen in big red letters had to be lies. They had to be. 

 

_ Police Detain Dangerous Criminal Park Jisung _

 

“What the fuck?” Jaehyun whispered to himself. Jisung? Caught? Something must have gone wrong. Just then, his phone rings, a shrill noise that brings his back to reality. 

“Jae,” Johnny’s voice was low and urgent as soon as Jaehyun picked up. 

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asked, nervous. 

“I have two pieces of intel to give you, stay silent, and then I have to go, alright?” Johnny said. 

“Go ahead,” 

“First, the special tasks division has acquired a ‘person of interest’. I’m almost one hundred percent sure it’s your Taeyong. Rumors are flying around that they want you back, and not like the past years. They really,  _ really,  _ want you back,” Johnny said. Jaehyun suppressed his panic in favor of keeping a level head.

“Second?” Jaehyun asked, scared to know. 

“Second, Park Jisung’s capture isn’t a coincidence,” Johnny said, “they’re using him to get to Chenle.” 

“How do they even know they’re together? What if Chenle doesn’t have feelings for Jisung?” Jaehyun asked. 

“The restaurant they went to was bugged for a previous mission,” Johnny said, “the previous mission was a failure, but it inadvertently picked the two of them up. Besides, they were on Jopok territory, someone could have seen them.” 

“Holy shit,” Jaehyun whispered. 

“I have to go now,” Johnny said, “stay safe, my brother.” 

“Good luck,” Jaehyun said. The line went dead. Jaehyun looked back down at his phone, the lock screen photo of Taeyong, Donghyuck, Mark, and Jisung on Halloween smiled back up at him. His heart twisted. 

 

“Fancy seeing you here, Jaehyun,” the agent said. He was dressed in a black jacket, a gun on his hip, and sunglasses on his nose. 

“You can drop the act, Doyoung,” Jaehyun said, “I’m asking to meet you here because we have matters to discuss. 

“You mean  _ you _ have matters to discuss,” Doyoung said, taking a seat anyway, “I want nothing from you.” 

“But your boss does, doesn’t he?” Jaehyun asked, “and I’m sure you’d want to keep Jeno out of his hands, hmm?” If Jaehyun hadn’t known Doyoung for as long as he had, he wouldn’t have noticed the way Doyoung’s shoulders stiffened.

“Still as sharp as ever, Jung Jaehyun,” Doyoung noted. 

“Still as careful as ever, Kim Doyoung,” Jaehyun replied. 

“Alright, what do you want?” Doyoung said finally, taking off his sunglasses. 

“I want my Taeyong back,” Jaehyun said. Doyoung opened his mouth to talk, but Jaehyun cut across him. 

“In exchange,” Jaehyun said, “in exchange for Taeyong’s safety and freedom, I will trade my own safety and freedom.” Doyoung seemed to ponder this for a moment. 

“True love, I see,” Doyoung said. Jaehyun didn’t reply. 

“I will take your terms and conditions to the higher-ups,” Doyoung said after a tense silence, “whether they will accept or not, I cannot guarantee you anything.” 

“Thanks, Doie,” Jaehyun said. Doyoung stiffened again. 

“Don’t use that nickname with me when you were the one to betray me,” Doyoung said tersely, before standing up and leaving. Jaehyun made a mad dash to go after him, but, as always, Doyoung blended in with the night. Jaehyun sighed. 

  
  


\--

  
  


“Taeyong,” Jungwoo called out. Taeyong groaned in his sleep. 

“Taeyong,” Jungwoo yelled again. Taeyong sat up. 

“What?” Taeyong rubbed his eyes. Jungwoo beckoned for him to come closer. 

“What did you say your husband’s name was?” Jungwoo asked suddenly. 

“I thought I told you last night?” Taeyong said. Jungwoo shook his head. 

“No, rumors are flying around that someone is coming back to the Jopok. Rumors also say that he was a really high-ranking member, too,” Jungwoo said. Taeyong froze. 

“That’s not him, he would never do that,” Taeyong muttered, more to himself than to Jungwoo. 

“I have two pieces of evidence that it’s your husband,” Jungwoo said, “first, rumors say that his name is Jaehyun.” 

“Could be another Jaehyun,” Taeyong said, hopeful.

“And my second piece of evidence? You,” Jungwoo said. Taeyong looked at him. 

“Because,” Jungwoo went on, sensing the question in Taeyong’s eyes, “if he loves you as much as you love him, it seems totally possible that he’d come back to set you free, wouldn’t it?” Taeyong stopped. Jungwoo was exactly right. 

“But he wouldn’t,” Taeyong said. Jungwoo raised an eyebrow. 

“You told me he promised not to, right?” Jungwoo asked. Taeyong nodded. 

“But what was the line you told be after?” Jungwoo asked again. Jaehyun’s voice suddenly rang out in Taeyong’s head. 

_     I would give up anything for you. _

And he did. 

He gave up his life so Taeyong could be free. 

 

\--

 

It was three in the morning when the text came. 

 

_ Your request has been granted.  _

_ Tomorrow, where we met last night.  _

 

“Thanks,” Jaehyun said, once he arrived. 

“Don’t thank me,” Doyoung said coldly, “I did it for Jeno.” 

“Of course,” Jaehyun said, “everything you do is for your little brother.” 

“Glad you still remember that,” Doyoung said. He stood up and started walking, a tacit invitation for Jaehyun to follow him. 

“Have you set your affairs in order?” Doyoung asked. Jaehyun shrugged. 

“Not many affairs in the first place,” Jaehyun said. Doyoung laughed. 

“Really? No death to fake? No marriage certificate to burn?” Doyoung asked. Jaehyun growled in his throat. 

“You knew,” Jaehyun said. 

“Of course I knew,” Doyoung said, “how would I  _ not  _ know?” 

“It seems I may have forgotten how powerful the Nighthunter is,” Jaehyun said. 

“But I’ll never forget how you turned your back on me, Sharpshooter,” Doyoung answered coldly. 

“I didn’t betray you, and I didn’t turn my back on you,” Jaehyun said, “I merely chose a different life.” Doyoung barked a laugh. 

“You left without a warning. You left me to carry on the rest of the missions alone while they looked for a replacement. You left such a big vacuum that all the dogs were scrambling for a taste of the power you had. So many people have died because of you, Jaehyun. So many people perished, all because you chose to love,” Doyoung hissed at him. Jaehyun took a deep breath. 

“Those people died of their own choices, of their own greed, I will take no responsibility in their sufferings,” Jaehyun gritted out. Doyoung whirled around, the barrel of his gun against Jaehyun’s temple. 

“And me?” Doyoung asked, his voice at a whisper, “what about me?” Jaehyun closed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed. Doyoung clicked the safety off his gun. 

“No, sorry doesn’t cut it,” Doyoung said, not lowering his gun, “nothing will ever repair what you did to me. Do you know what it was like to deliver failure after failure to the higher-ups? Do you know what it felt like, to go on a mission, turn to the person on my right, and realize that it wasn’t you?”

Jaehyun stayed frozen, his eyes shut against the bitter wind of the night. Doyoung took a deep breath and dropped his arm, letting the safety click back on. Upon hearing the telltale click, Jaehyun opened his eyes again. He opened his mouth to speak, but Doyoung had already turned away and started walking again. 

 

\--

 

“This is so very unnecessary,” Jaehyun sighed as he sat down in the chair. A single wooden chair placed before a large podium, while the council sat on a raised platform behind the podium. 

“Jung Jaehyun, welcome back,” the man at the podium spoke. 

“I’m feeling the welcome,” Jaehyun said sarcastically, fidgeting in his chair to make his point. 

“Precautions, precautions,” the man said again, waving his hand in the air. 

“Let’s stop beating around the bush,” Jaehyun said, “I’ll willingly take my tracker back, as long as you free Taeyong.” A brief moment of silence. The councilmen whisper to themselves.

“I have to say,” podium-man said “that was a lot quicker than I imagined.” 

“Well?” Jaehyun asked, sticking his arm out, “what are you waiting for?”

 

The sting was horribly familiar. The giant needle and the small blinking red light were no less scary even a decade and a half later. Once the device was injected under his skin, the small light flashes green, before shutting off. Shouting from the hallway slowly approached, a cacophony of voices, but Jaehyun could clearly pick out one of them. 

 

“Get your filthy ass hands off of me, you motherfucker,” Taeyong spat. 

“Shut the fuck up, you idiot,” the guard spat right back. 

“I will beat your ass,” Taeyong threatened, though it was an empty threat. He was about six inches shorter than the man and definately about a hundred pounds smaller. There was no way Taeyong would win in a fight. 

“Taeyong!” 

Taeyong’s head snapped up. He hadn’t heard that voice in almost two months. 

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong dared to hope. He saw the end of the hallway ahead, and saw Jaehyun leaning on the doorframe, clutching his arm. 

“Jaehyun!” Taeyong yelled, trying to run towards him. He wasn’t expecting the guard to actually let him go, the extra momentum sending him crashing to the ground, before picking himself right back up and sprinting. 

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong launched himself into Jaehyun’s arms. 

“My Taeyong, are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, pulling his lover closer. He didn’t care that they had an audience right now, didn’t care that the world would stop turning for them tomorrow, didn’t care that he might never see him again. What mattered was now. He’s holding Taeyong in his arms now. 

“Jae,” Taeyong choked out after a moment, “please don’t tell me you did something stupid.” 

Jaehyun didn’t have the heart to respond. 

Taeyong caught on. 

“No!” Taeyong yelled, grabbing for Jaehyun’s left arm. He knew where to look, knew where to press to make the small green light flicker alive. Horrified, Taeyong took a step back from Jaehyun. 

“You stupid, stupid man,” Tayong whispered. Jaehyun closed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun whispered. It seemed like there were too many people he was apologizing to lately. 

“I can’t leave you, not again,” Taeyong whispered. Jaehyun couldn’t meet his eyes. Taeyong felt his just-mended heart breaking again. Until an idea formed in his head. He turned to the men up in the seats, looked at each of them in the eye, and sat down in the wooden chair. 

“I’m going to join you,” Taeyong said, false confidence in his tone. Jaehyun snapped up. 

“No, you won’t,” Jaehyun said, holding Taeyong’s hand, tugging on it. 

“Jaehyun, I’m a twenty-four year old man. Let me make my own decisions,” Taeyong said, pulling his hand away. 

“Taeyong, please, don’t do this,” Jaehyun whispered. 

“I have a degree in engineering,” Taeyong said, loudly and clearly, “My greatest strength is in cars; I am—I  _ was— _ a mechanic.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok but johnny is not the villian of the story,

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Min, who's a beast and an angel at the same time. 
> 
> The world needs more Chensung


End file.
